


Tide and Time

by englishrose2011



Series: Magnificent Seven & Sentinel crossover [1]
Category: The Magnificent Seven (TV), The Sentinel
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-21
Updated: 2014-04-21
Packaged: 2018-01-20 07:53:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 41,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1502612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/englishrose2011/pseuds/englishrose2011
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Time travel is known and when a criminal goes back in time, its up to Jim Ellison and Blair Sandburg to go back and  put the timeline right. <br/>To do so they have to make sure that the Magnificent Seven is formed, the only problem is that they are outlaws, and one of them is due to hang.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> The following is a work of fan fiction based on the CBS television series, The Magnificent Seven. It is in no way intended to infringe on the copyrights of CBS, MGM, The Trilogy Entertainment Group, The Mirisch Corp., or anyone else who may have legal rights to the characters and settings. This story is strictly for entertainment. There have been series and films dealing with time travel such as The Time Machine (H G Wells), Time Tunnel (Irwin Allen) and Time Cops; any similarity is unintentional and not meant to infringe the copy-copyright of their writers. Sentinel copyright of Paramount and Pet Fly Productions. 
> 
> Special thanks to Texas Aries for your great pictures and your support in writing this story and to Sarah L, my hard working beta reader, without you there wouldn’t have been a story. Any errors are mine.
> 
> Warning for adult language

**Part One**

 

2013

 

For the first time since the 19th Century, the research of Sir Richard Burton is made public, and the modern world learns about the presence of Sentinels (men with five enhanced senses) and Guides (men or women with the ability to connect on spiritual level with them) living among them. For nearly a century, Sentinels were thought to have become extinct like the Dodo, the last recorded Sentinel dying in 1912.

 During the Civil War of 1860  - 1865 both side used Sentinels and Guides, after the fighting finished the surviving pairings travelled to all points of the compass, looking for a peaceful existence, trying to keep one step ahead of a population that feared what they could do. The tactile need for contact between Sentinel and Guide, led to sometimes fatal misunderstandings about the true relationship between the men.   Having enhanced senses carried

 with it a steep price, any Sentinel with more than two enhanced senses needs the presence of  a Guide to help him manages them. Because, without them, they could trigger a sensory overload which would leave the sentinel in a comatose state that would lead to death...

 

 One such modern pairing was James Ellison and Blair Sandburg, respectively, who worked for the ultra top secret Time Agency. Without Blair’s touch, scent, his voice to keep him sane, Jim Ellison would be lost in a maelstrom of cascading senses. In return for Blair’s support, he gave the younger, smaller man protection and stability.

 

 

In 2014, Dr Preston finally proved that Time Waves existed, and although a natural phenomena, could be controlled and directed. Because of the possibility of misuse of time it became strictly controlled, to protect against abuse. But what no one could have realised was that Time had its own protection, and no matter how hard people tried, major events in time could not be changed, only small ones. But for some people that was enough.

 

 

Cascade 2018

 

Captain Simon Banks waved his two Agents to take a seat.  ‘We have reason to believe that Samuel Murdock and Philip Sanders have managed to hack into a Time Wave.’ He saw the stunned look on the face of Dr Blair Sandburg.

“I know it should be impossible Sandburg, but it’s happened.”

 

“Simon, do you know when they went back too?.”

 

“Murdock and Sanders have gone back to 1874, American West; we believe that their target are the gold and silver shipments of that era.’ Turning in his seat, the tall Captain pressed a button to lower the ceiling screen down.

At the same time  a flick of the fingers lowered the lights. “The main problem is that newspapers for this era are sketchy at best, but we have detected some changes in them that indicate that they might have already taken at least one silver shipment.  But history has recorded that there is a major shipment due in eight months time.’

 

“Why go back this far in advance,” Blair asked. “Surely it’s better for them to hit and run.”

 

Jim shook his head, “No, Chief, I think what they’re doing is getting their hand in, and then, why stop at that one?  They could amass one hell of a fortune in two, maybe three years and then bring the silver and gold back and it would be untraceable, right Simon?”

 

“That’s what the thinking is. As you know Jim, we try to keep movement on the wave to the minimum. Ian Worth is already back there, he went in to 1865, therefore Murdock and Sanders couldn’t insert ahead of him; he had been assigned to the New Mexico Territory, and he’s become concerned that Murdock and Sanders are manipulating the past. He believes that they have begun a pre-emptive strike on the lawmen that stopped the major silver robberies in New Mexico. History, gentlemen, has already been changed, and we need you to make sure that it regains its track. Now Ian is a good Western anthropologist, and will be able to help you, but he doesn’t have the skills needed to make this mission work.’    Simon looked down at this file. “I have my own concerns about including you in this mission Jim; I know what happened last time you rode the Wave, it nearly killed you.”

 

Jim Ellison cut him off quickly, “I wasn’t online then.  This time, and with Blair, it will be different.” The words were said with such conviction it made Simon look up, his eyes moving from Jim Ellison to his guide.

 

Simon looked Dr Blair Sandburg up and down critically.   He was, in Simon’s eyes, too young to be a double PhD, and he dressed as if he was a sole survivor of an explosion in a paint factory with his long hair he was a throw back to the 1960’s hippy culture. There were not that many people that would have taken on the imposing ex-Ranger; he had a glare that could strip paint and give frost bite at 100 feet, and an attitude that yelled my way or the highway.  But the kid had guts and anyone that could get into “Eerie Ellison’s” face and not get splattered across the countryside was a man that deserved respect, and could get the job of safe guarding a stubborn sentinel done.

 

“Okay, Sentinel Ellison, it’s your call.”  Simon paused.  ‘Now let me introduce you to the main players as we know them,” the slide was a photograph brown tinted of seven men in western dress stood in front of a saloon called the Standish Tavern. “This is the Magnificent Seven, as they were called.”  He smiled as he saw the look on Jim’s face, ‘and you thought they where fictional western characters from a 1960 film. Well they where real people; we don’t know a lot about them, but we have been able to identify them, from some of the papers belonging to Judge Orin Travis we have been able to get a good description of them and the photograph comes from his estate. The problem is that someone has gone through and destroyed all of the other papers relating to the Seven; these only survived because they where hidden in a secret desk draw. Because these are copies and not the original when history began to change, these where not affected by the alternate history. We have no idea what ultimately happened to the Seven, they appear to have just disappeared from history, without a trace. Our only other source is this Dime novel.” Simon picked the book up, “It is the nearest we have to a independent account of them, but it’s a Dime Novel so, he shrugged, “Just treat it as broad stroke of history, but then I don’t have to tell you that, Blair. Ian has supplied us with the data on the alternate history as have the changed documents. So, let me introduce you to the Magnificent Seven.’

 

CLICK

 

Simon clicked the mouse and the group picture vanished to be replaced by one of a close up of one of the seven.

 

“Okay, the leader of the Seven is Christopher ‘Chris’ Larabee, the original Man in Black; by all accounts, one of the fastest gunmen ever, a stone cold killer, a nasty drunk with a mean temper and a bad reputation, he worked as a professional gunslinger and was recruited by Judge Orin Travis - a Senior Circuit Riding Judge - to lead a group of Regulators to protect the Town of Four Corners. It was considered one of  the most dangerous towns in New Mexico Territory. General description; tall, lean in build, dark dirty blond hair, green/blue eyes, in his early 30’s. But his all black clothing is the best clue.

Now the original history seems to indicate that they met up with the Judge after their first job together, as they helped bring a murderer to justice and he then recruited them in Four Corners.

 

This alternate history is a lot darker; it appears that Larabee was on the wrong side of the law when he clashed with Judge Travis in Blue Creek and in 1875 he had a gang of three with him, Tanner, Wilmington and Standish.

Now this would mean that those four must have met up prior to that date, possibly a whole year earlier than the original history’s recorded meeting in Four Corners in 1875.  Larabee’s gang already have a reputation as the most dangerous gun crew in New Mexico.   Somehow you have to make sure that Judge Travis survives the meeting and recruits them as Regulators for Four Corners.

 

CLICK

 

Next is Vin Tanner, Larabee’s second in command.  Ex buffalo hunter and ex bounty hunter, sharpshooter - a sniper by our standards he came from Texas, wears a buckskin coat, has long hair, blue eyes, a slender build, looks to be in his mid to late twenties. Carries a sawn off Winchester rifle instead of the usual Colt.

 

“A mare's leg,” Blair put in, and then noticing the look from Jim, he added, “Steve McQueen in the classic series, Wanted, Dead or Alive, used to carry one; way cool.”

 

“Well, remember this guy is no fictional character; considered by some to be a renegade, he would have brought in more than his share of bounties dead over the back of a horse, so don’t ever forget,” Simon paused to make his point, “all of these men are killers, Blair, even if they are the good guys.”  Once he saw Blair nod, he continued. “Right, Vin Tanner is unusual in that he has a bounty of $500 dollars on his head for murder, committed in Texas.  The fact the was protected by the other seven and Judge Travis leads us to think that he was possibly innocent. It’s known that he met Larabee for the first time in Four Corners.’

 

‘The alternative history is a lot darker; Ian has found out that Tanner is wanted for the murder of four Scalp hunters that were part of a gang that killed his adoptive Indian family, and we are talking women and children here. Tanner hunted those four down and when he had finished with them there wasn’t a lot of them left to be identified. He never gave up hunting for the rest of them, and became a formable Bounty Hunter, he must have gotten to close for comfort.  Tanner was arrested in Tascosa when he killed a local rancher called Jess Kincaid. He maintained that he didn’t kill the man, and was framed by the surviving members of the gang. But, hell, the locals in Tascosa had a rope with his name on it, and only too happy to lynch a murdering renegade. Tanner escaped and the reward went up to $500 dollars. Guilty or innocent, remember, this is an extremely dangerous man. All we know is that he met up with Larabee prior to Blue Creek, but how or why were not certain. Jim, make sure you don’t box him in, you’re going in as a US Marshal again. I don’t want you setting yourself up as a target for him. Tanner is more likely to fight if cornered rather then flee. He’s formable in his own right, but with Larabee at his side, going against Tanner is like signing your own death warrant. Remember what I told Sandburg, these men are killers pure and simple,  not matter which side their on.”

 

 

 

CLICK

 

‘Buck Wilmington; dark hair, wears a moustache, bigger built than Larabee and Tanner, brown eyes, age wise possible mid to late thirties, seems to be an old friend of Larabee's.  He’s a real ladies man, fun loving, and it’s worth remembering he’s the most approachable of the Seven. But again he is also a hired gun and possible the third fastest draw of the Seven.’

 

‘Evidence again places him in Four Corners as for his first meeting with Larabee for three years. Alternative history is close, but possibly there was no break in their relationship; until Tanner came along he was the only one that could talk Larabee out of anything.’

 

CLICK

 

‘Ezra P Standish, aka Simpson, Sunderland, Selkirk; a professional gambler and conman, late twenties, dark hair, smaller then the other three, stockier build, southern, possibly from Georgia. You’ll recognise him straight away; red coat, black Mississippi river boat gambler’s hat, waistcoat, carries - and make a note of this  - a derringer strapped to his right arm, a shoulder holster and a strapped down Remington, and he is thought to be the second fastest of the Seven after Larabee. Another thing, he is ambidextrous and although he’s a gambler, he’s also a gunman.  For some reason there was a rocky start at the beginning of his relationship with the Seven. In the alternative history, he was rescued by Larabee, Tanner and Wilmington from being tarred and feathered. We are lucky here in that Ian Worth was actually in town when it happened, he was monitoring Lararbee. He reported they managed to stop the town’s folk before they could pour the boiling tar over Standish’s head.  But that Standish suffered first degree burns to the back, and chest. Larabee and the others holed up in the local hotel with him, Ian spoke to the doctor, and he told Ian that when he removed the tar it had taken skin with it, and there was going to be considerable scaring and that Standish has already taken a fever. A week later with Standish drugged up to the gills with laudanum they left town with him.”

 

CLICK

 

‘JD Dunne, the youngest of the Seven, late teens, early twenties, smaller, dark haired, wears a Bat Masterson type hat, carried two guns is known to be ambidextrous, possibly the fourth fastest of the gunmen, after Larabee, Standish, Wilmington. He’s from the East coast, possibly Boston.

‘And this is also worth noting - he carried the badge at Four Corners, and so he is officially its Sheriff, but the leader is Larabee, and the kid defers to him.  Of the Seven, his history is the least changed.’

 

CLICK

 

‘Nathan Jackson; an ex-slave, the healer of Four Corners, he was rescued by Larabee and Tanner.’

 

CLICK

 

‘This is the newspaper report the day after it happened; the journalist was Mary Travis, daughter in law of Judge Orin Travis and the local newspaper owner. The cowboys belonging to a trail herd were going to lynch Jackson  because their boss died of gangrene; Larabee and Tanner jumped in and saved his life.’

 

‘Now, on the surface, this action was totally out of keeping with Larabee and Tanner’s reputations; after all, what’s in it for a hired gun and a wanted ex bounty hunter?”

 

“So a good example of how we can’t trust everything you’re telling us,” Blair put in and then grinned. “Sorry Simon,” he added as he caught the Captain’s look.

 

“But you’re right.  We only have second hand information, so guide lines only guys.”  “Okay, Jackson; later twenties, possibly, tall, carries a gun, but is more expert with a knife - as a slave he wouldn’t have been allowed access to a gun. Seems protective of the seven, closest to Josiah.”

 

“How does he get along with Standish, a southerner?” Blair asked.

 

“No idea, but they appear to have had a working relationship, so tread carefully in that area.  Remember memories and feelings are still going to be running high about anything connected to the Civil War. For you it’s history, for them it’s something they lived through. It can’t be stressed enough you have to make sure that Larabee, Tanner, Standish and Wilmington are all there in Four Corners in time to rescue Nathan from the lynching. Without him, there is no Seven.’ 

 

CLICK

 

‘Last but not least, Josiah Sanchez; ex preacher, big man, powerfully built, and the oldest of the seven in this mid- late forties, but good with a gun. Salt and pepper hair, and the tallest of them. Has one hell of a temper when he drinks.  Of all of them, the last two members of the Seven’s history is the least changed so far. Possibly because Murdock and Sanders believe that they have derailed the others enough to stop them.’

 

‘For that reason we are going to insert you in 1875, just prior to a fledgling Seven’s meeting with Judge Travis; you’ll find Ian Worth waiting for you to brief you and bring you up to date with what’s happening.’

 

‘As I said, your cover, Jim, will be the same as last time; you’ll be a US Marshal. Ian has made sure that you’re accredited and the official paperwork is all in place. As far as the people at that time are concerned, you took a leave of absence to find your Guide, after been diagnosed as a Sentinel.” Looking towards Blair, Simon continued “While looking you met Doctor Blair Sandburg, a fossil hunter from Washington DC, and you bonded.”

 

Jim looked thoughtful. “These silver shipments were originally hit, so someone else out there is planning the same as Murdock.  What’s he going to do about them?” 

 

“We don’t know, Murdock and Sanders might attack on the back of them, using them as a decoy or they might recruit them, you won’t know until you get there.”

 

“Your job is going to be hard, your first duty is to make sure that the Magnificent Seven form, and that they end up at Four Corners. You’re cleared to use any, and I repeat any, methods that will work. Even if it means getting down and dirty. The second is to make sure that Murdock and Sanders are returned to the Hub for sentencing.’

 

CLICK

 

A new picture came up; “Judge Orin Travis, no photographs survive. This is the nearest we have, the painting as done within 2 years of the Seven’s photograph.  Judge Orin Travis was the person that recruited the Seven as Regulators. He was a tough, hanging judge, but a fair man, and he didn’t just hang people for the hell of it. In the original history he recruited the Seven as Regulators and supported them, keeping Tanner's secret and protecting him as much as he could. In the alternate history, Judge Travis didn’t survive his encounter with Larabee; you have to make sure that part of history changes, he had to recruit those four men, the fledgling Seven, and get them to Four Corners.’

 

 

Looking at it, Jim had to agree that the Judge was an old man, but with strength of character that jumped out of the painting, if the Seven were as unruly in either history as it sounded, he must have been one hell of an old man to rule them with a rod of Iron that seemed to have been tempered with common sense and compassion for these diverse men. He would, Jim decided, be an interesting man to meet.

 

Then Simon’s voice brought him back to the future present.  “Tomorrow at 6.00 am, I need you both to go down to supply and check your equipment.”

 

As they left, Simon called Jim back. Blair hesitated, and then was waved off by his sentinel to carry on ahead of him.

 

“I made the right choice Simon, I know what they’re saying about Blair,” his voice became colder, as Ellison suppressed the anger he could feel building.

 

“Easy Jim, all I was going to say was that you’re going to have to watch the Sandburg , this is an anthropologist’s dream, and for the record,” Simon locked his gaze on Jim, holding it, “If I didn’t think the kid was good enough, I would have told him to his face, the first time he set foot in this department, before you bonded.” Then he put his hand out, and the two men shook as Simon added “Good Luck.”

 

0-0-0-0-0

 

Supply Department.

 

Blair jumped down from the artificially distressed Wagon; “Jim, you should see this, you won’t believe what they have fitted into it.  Take a look at this, the wagon bed lifts up and we have two of the light weight Kevlar vests there, a snipers rifle, a full paramedic medical kit and the tranquilliser guns. These tranquillisers will put someone down, but won’t kill them; cuts the risk of causing a time ripple.” Blair paused.  “Something wrong Jim?”

 

The older man waved his guide to join him away from the others.

 “What’s wrong?” Blair repeated, his voice began to show his concern.

 

“Blair, are you sure you’re alright with this?”  Jim wrapped his senses round his guide, monitoring his vital signs; like a human lie detector, he would know if the younger man lied. This was a dangerous mission, and whereas he trusted Blair with his life, he couldn’t drag the younger man into danger if Blair was doing this just through a sense of loyalty; he had to be willing to go for the right reasons.

 

“Are you kidding, this is a chance in a lifetime!,” he was bouncing on the spot with hardly suppressed energy.

 

“Chief,” Jim put a hand on the younger man’s shoulder, “This is no day trip, and there is always a risk with riding the Wave.”

 

“I know that, they might think that I am flake big guy.”  There was a sadness in his voice as he said, “but I believe in what we’re doing, Murdock and Sanders have to be stopped.  It’s not just the money, the longer they’re in the past, the more chances there are for them to change something,” Blair put his hand up to stop Jim before he could speak, “I know they say that the natural law of the Wave  stops them interfering with the big picture of history, but who’s to say that if they kill a bartender or a bank clerk  the man wasn’t the link in a chain to a larger slice of history. They have to be stopped,” he grinned, “so quite worrying big guy.” Blair moved a step closer to Jim, into his personal space - something that would have got anyone else splattered - and placed his hand over his sentinel’s heart. “No one could force me not to go on this mission with you, Jim, and it’s going to be one hell of a ride.”

 

 

4.00 am

 

Jim and Blair were stood in the ready room, dressed in their western clothes, checking their weapons. Jim caught his guide’s look of distaste at the guns, and shook his head. “Sorry Blair, but a man unarmed in those days would attract the wrong kind of attention. You know Wyatt Earp went through most of his career without killing a man.”

 

“Right, Jim, and the OK Corral was just a misunderstanding,” Blair snapped back at his sentinel.

  
”I -” Just then Simon came in, cutting off whatever Jim was about to say.

 

Simon could feel the tension between the pairing; putting his concerns aside he said, “Ian Worth, has just sent in an emergency report. A gang of Bounty Hunters have caught Vin Tanner and he’s due to be hung in six days time.’ 

 

Jim swore, “Does Worth have each of the Seven located.”

 

“Apart from Nathan Jackson and Josiah Sanchez who are at Four Corners, and Dunne is en-route from the East Coast. The others are drifting as a gang; his guess is that they are on their way to rescue Tanner. Do whatever you need to, just make sure that Wilmington, Larabee, Tanner and Standish meet up with Nathan, Josiah and Dunne on the 28th July in time to stop the lynching.”

 

The technician put his head round the door. “Sorry Sir, but its time go to the Wave launch site; we have a vehicle ready for you.”

 

Simon nodded and put his hand out, and Jim clasped it in firm handshake. Simon wished him and Blair good luck on the Wave, before they were escorted to the vehicles that would take them into the heart of the machine which would allow them to time slip back to 1875.

 

 

70 miles outside of Cascade.

 

The backup crew took the wagon out of the container truck, and then hitched up the team and the individual riding horses the two Agents would need. The tech team and the truck were taken into an underground facility. For Jim and Blair it was as if hell was travelling towards them at full speed. The roadway in front of them vanished, changing into a dirt track, as the Wave re-wrote time.  As it picked them up, it was like surfing a giant wave, and it was only a time before they got wiped out. One minute they could see the forbidding research centre and the banks of cameras that recorded every Wave ride, the next all they had was the wagon and each other. If the Wave had been directed correctly they were just outside of Blue Creek, New Mexico Territory, a couple of days before Larabee and his gang arrived.

 

Jim looked round for Blair, quickly crossing to his Guide as he saw him try to lever himself to his feet.

 

“What the hell was that?”

 

“The Wave; you’d best sit down Blair.” He manhandled his guide in to sitting on a rock and pushed one of the water canteens into his hand. “Stay put and drink this, I am going to have a look round.” He brushed Blair’s shoulder as he went by, the sentinel showing concern for his guide.  Now he had work to do; later he would have to bond with Blair. The bond was a spiritual joining of Sentinel and Guide, the cornerstone of the connection between the two men. Just touching his Guide could help him bring his senses under control  after the trauma of riding the Wave.

 

Blue Creek

1875

 

The town of Blue Creek was no different than any of the other towns in the New Mexico Territory. More prosperous than some, with a church, a school, and two hotels, the people were law abiding and had no idea of what was heading their way.

 

Jim opened the door of the hotel room, at the second knock, his hand resting on his gun. Then, his face split into a smile as he saw the portly, bearded anthologist Ian Worth. “Come in Ian,” he waved the older man to a seat as he closed the door behind him.

 

“Ian, Dr Blair Sandburg, Chief, this is Dr Ian Worth.”

 

Blair shook hands warmly, “I’ve read your papers Dr Worth, very impressive.”

Ian returned the smile, “Nice of you to say that, Dr Sandburg, I am a bit out of the loop here in 1875, but last time I caught the Wave, I read your Sentinel Territorial paper and I would love to discuss your hardwire behaviour theory.”

 

Jim shook his head “Blair, Ian, a minute here, you can have your bull session later, we have a mission remember.”

 

“Sorry Jim, got a little carried away there for a minute.” Ian put in apologetically. “The way things stand at the moment, I have managed to get the Governor to consider the idea of fighting fire with fire. Four Corners is in line - excuse the pun  - in a few years time to have the railroad coming through.  But if the town is too lawless the railway company will just find a new location, and too many people have vested interests in that to want that to happen.

The Governor, with a bit of work, had agreed to give Senior Circuit Judge Orin Travis a free hand in this matter. So, I sold Travis on the idea that you would help him in getting this sorted out. By the way Jim, he remembers you from your last mission, and thinks highly of you. We are due to meet Travis at 7.00 pm tonight to finalise our plans over dinner.”

 

“What about Vin Tanner, you said that he was due to be executed in six days.” Blair said.

 

“Vin Tanner is on his way from Tascosa as we speak.  As far as the men escorting him are concerned, Tanner is facing charges in Blue Creek, and will hang here.”  Ian yawned, “God Jim, sometimes it’s been like banging my head against a brick wall, I am really glad for the backup. Because sooner rather than later Larabee is going to arrive, and if this goes wrong, ‘we’ll’ be counting corpses.”

 

0-0-0-0-0

 

Judge Orin Travis was considered one of the best Judges in New Mexico; he was in his sixties, but still retained a passion for the law that many a newly qualified lawyer would envy. Travis moved a little slower these days because of his arthritis, but was still more than capable of brandishing a scattergun when he had to take a more active role in maintaining the law. He took a sip of his coffee and viewed the three men over the rim.  Ian Worth was the Governors Assistant, solid and reliable, and if anyone else but Worth had come to him with this idea, he would have laughed the man out of his courtroom. But he had also managed to recruit US Marshal James Ellison into his plan, and Ellison had helped locate a cargo of stolen Winchesters that the gunrunners where going to sell to the Indians. That had ended bloodily, but Ellison had gotten results, so as far as Travis was concerned Ellison was a solid lawman with a good brain and the courage to put his life on the line for his job. The only unknown factor was the young looking Dr Sandburg, but since the other two vouched for him, Travis would give him the benefit of the doubt for the moment.

 

“So, as you can see gentlemen, the idea would be to send Larabee and his gang down to Four Corners as Regulators, in return for the release of Tanner.” Ian explained.

 

Travis took another sip of this coffee and placed the empty cup down. “Now, I am not happy about this Mr Worth, but,” he raised a hand to still Worth’s protest. “But it has merit and I am willing to give it a try.”

 

“What’s to stop Larabee trying to free Tanner before they get here.” Blair asked.

 

“If the plan works, then Larabee is going to be trying to cover Blue Creek, Waterville and Brownstone, because he doesn’t know which town Tanner is heading for. Once they find him here, I would guess that that member of the gang will telegraph the other two, and they’ll be coming hell for leather to Blue Creek.” Travis explained, then he added “and we, gentlemen, had better be ready for them.”

 

0-0-0-0-0

 

The next day, Jim and Blair got to know the local law. Sheriff Wilson had been an officer in the Union Army and had moved to Blue Creek after the Civil War. A storeowner, he had become Sheriff through default when the previous Sheriff had been killed in a bank robbery and John Wilson had helped organise the posse that brought the bank robbers in. And he was none too happy to hear the news that Jim brought him.

 

“Chris Larabee is coming here?” he shook his head, “You have to be crazy. I’ve heard about him, he gunned a man down in Kansas for knocking his drink over; he is a killer, pure and simple, and you have the nerve to stand there and tell me, that that bastard is heading straight for my town?”

 

“If it goes the way we believe, then Larabee will be on his way in 24 hours.”

 

“And if it doesn’t Marshal Ellison, how many people am I going to be burying?”

 

0-0-0-0-0

 

Blair leaned back in the chair outside the jail.  While he waited for his Sentinel to emerge from his chat with the Sheriff, he watched the people go by, still not really able to believe that he was actually back in 1875.

 

As Jim came out he got to his feet. “So how did it go?”

 

“Better than I thought Chief.”

 

“Huh, that bad,” Blair mused

 

“Yeah, that bad..” Jim’s voice trailed off as he saw the man riding slowly into town; he recognised him from the old photograph.  It was Ezra Standish, the gambler. Standish was riding a good-looking chestnut horse, yet it looked as if it had been ridden hard, both rider and horse where covered with dust from the trail.

Jim held Standish’s gaze as the man rode past, before Standish turned his horse towards the hitching rail of the nearest saloon.

 

Dismounting, Standish slackened the girth on his saddle and then stood beating some of the dust off his jacket and hat before, with one last look at them, he headed into the saloon. 

 

A small smile tugged at Jim’s lips, “That’s Ezra Standish, now all we need is Tanner to turn up for the show to begin”

 

0-0-0-0-0

 

It was late afternoon; Sheriff Wilson was called outside by his Deputy Len Fuller, to watch the arrival of their prisoner.

 

The prisoner was on a horse in the middle of the group of three horsemen, his hands where tied behind his back, and he was hunched forward in the saddle, with the brim of his slouched cavalry hat pulled down over his face.

 

The leader of the horseman came to a halt in front of Wilson.

 

“Name’s Joe Murphy, from Tascosa ,” he jerked a thumb over his shoulder towards the prisoner, “I’ve got your gallows bait here, and you’re welcome to him. Bastard tried to escape; Pete here,” Murphy jabbed a thumb at one the riders, “got a knife in his side trying to stop him.” Murphy scratched his jaw with his thumbnail, “Should really ask for more for that, Pete’s not going to be able to work for awhile. But we gentled him down for you.” He leered at Wilson, as the other two men laughed.

 

Wilson moved closer just as the prisoner lifted his head, and the Sheriff found himself nailed by a pair of vivid blue eyes, that burned with hatred and made him take a step backward.

 

Murphy caught the move and laughed, “He’s all yours now Sheriff, once you’ve paid up what we’ve been promised.”  Then he swung down off his horse, and pulled out the papers from his pocket, and handed them to Wilson. The Sheriff read through them quickly, everything seemed to be in order; the paperwork stated that the Mayor of Tascosa had hired the three bounty hunters to take Vin Tanner to Blue Creek. There was a bonus that was payable on his arrival, alive, of $400. Wilson’s eyebrows went up at the amount of the bonus. “This seems in order, I’ll authorise Mr Greenway to pay you your money.  Okay, bring him in.”

 

Murphy pushed past Wilson, as he ordered over his shoulder, “Tom cut him down, and watch the bastard don’t try anything.’

 

The man called Tom grinned, “He’s lost his fight Joe, that little trek of his sure knocked the stuffing out of him, especially once he got dragged a few times.”

 

Wilson shook his head, he had seen the badly bruised face, and the dried blood on Tanner’s face,  he was shocked by the fact of how young Vin Tanner was.  He had expected someone much older.

 

“Wilson, get the fuck in here,” Joe Murphy bellowed, obviously impatient to get this job finished.  The sheriff had just begun to enter the jail when something caused him to turn back. Tom must have hauled Tanner off his horse, and he had landed hard on the ground. Fisting the front of the prisoners hide coat, he was dragging the younger man to his feet. When suddenly Tanner exploded upwards much faster, as his hands pulled free from the ropes, Tanners knee caught Tom hard in the groin, doubling the older man over, just in time to catch a knee in the face that snapped his head back, with a sickening crack. Pete was scrabbling for his gun but by then Tanner had tugged Tom’s gun free; he rolled under the belly of his horse and came up and onto his knees, and fired up at Pete. The impact of the bullet threw him from the saddle, the horse side stepped, but by then Tanner had caught hold of the saddle horn, swinging himself into the saddle and was heading hell for leather at a gallop out of town, bent low over the neck of the horse.

 

Wilson had made no attempt to pull his gun, the speed of the escape had frozen him in place, and suddenly he was pushed aside as Murphy came flying out of the jail, his gun in his hand. Before he could aim at the escaping prisoner, a single shot rang out.

 

Vin Tanner was thrown from the saddle to land heavily in the middle of the street, as Jim Ellison stepped off the boardwalk, a smoking gun in his hand.

Ignoring the people that now lined the street gawking, he walked up to the unconscious body, kicking the gun away from the fallen man. Using his foot, Jim flipped Tanner onto his back; blood coated the left shoulder of the hide coat and was now trickling down the side of his face. Crouching, the sentinel felt for a pulse, but that was for show, already his enhanced senses had scanned the injured man’s vital signs and satisfied he was still in one piece, Jim sat back on his heels.

The touch of Blair’s hand brought him back to the present, he had begun to zone out, enter that void of overloaded sense that could put a sentinel in a coma.

 

“Wh….at”

 

“You where losing it big guy, and we’ve got company, the Saloon.”

 

Looking up from the injured man Jim could see Standish among the gathering crowd; the gambler was holstering the Remington revolver he carried. Whatever he was going to do to back the play of the escaping Vin Tanner was, for the moment, put on hold.  Standish, Jim mused, could do nothing at the moment; with Tanner down, any escape would be impossible. Turning on his heel Standish walked away from his unconscious friend, as Murphy and Wilson arrived.

 

 

 Jim knew it didn’t take a genius to know that Standish was heading for the Telegraph Office, and that within the hour Larabee would know where Vin Tanner was being held.  Then nothing would stop the notorious gunman from trying to claim back his friend, and he was about to up the stakes.

 

“Blair, keep an eye on Tanner,” and the sentinel took off in pursuit of the gambler. 

 

0-0-0-0-0

 

As Ezra Standish was about to enter into the Telegraph Office, he froze as he felt the barrel of gun pressed to the back of his neck. “Now, Standish, keep your hands where I can see them, and if you try to pull that derringer of yours, I’ll feed it to you barrel first!”

 

“Now Mr-”

 

“Ellison, Marshal Ellison.”

 

“Marshal.” The correction was made smoothly; only a sentinel could hear the way Ezra’s heart beat had sped up, “I’ve done nothing wrong in this fair town, you have obviously mixed me up with some miscreant.”

 

“You ride with Chris Larabee, you tell him that if he comes into meet with Judge Travis tomorrow at 12, noon, Tanner will be kept safe. If he doesn’t show, he’ll have to take his chances with Murphy and his friends.” Jim lowered the gun, and a firm hand pushed the smaller gambler hard, “and believe me you don’t want that, that bastard gets off on pain. So think about it.”

 

Ezra had to catch hold of the counter to stop himself from falling from the hard push that had propelled him into the office. The con-man gambler turned fast, the derringer snapping into his hand, but Marshal Ellison was gone.

Quickly, he pushed coins across to the telegraph operator, and waited while his quick scrawled message was sent. He stood listening as the message was sent; the operator was shocked when the gambler suddenly snapped at him.

  
”Stop, that should have been a dash and a dot, send it again. When you

get a reply, I’ll be in the saloon”.

 

 

0-0-0-0-0

 

Murphy and Len Fuller dragged Tanners limp body back down the street, and into the jail. Wilson had the door to the cell open, Vin was thrown in and the door slammed shut behind him.

 

Blair had followed them into the jail, alarmed by the blood that dripped from the wounded man onto the floor he protested. “We have to get him a doctor”. 

 

“He gets fucking nothing,” Murphy snapped back, catching hold of Wilson’s arm as the Sheriff yelled at his deputy to get the doctor.

 

“You hear me, he get’s nothing, until we see the money, he’s worth $500 on the poster and another $400 for getting that murdering bastard to Blue Creek. And I want the money I am owed.” 

 

Wilson shrugged him off. “Len, get Doctor Thorpe here, now. Murphy, you’ll get your money, but I am not having anyone bleeding to death on my watch. Tanner hangs, and he’s not going to cheat the rope.” His voice got harder. “What you waiting for Len, I am the one that’s paying your wages, now get.”

 

0-0-0-0-0

 

Jim kept watch on the Telegraph Office, but his gaze swung back to the Jail when Murphy with Tom in tow came slamming out of the building and Murphy stalked off to the nearest saloon. The sentinel heard the click of the Morse code key and he turned his attention back to the Telegraph Office as he caught the name Standish, then the rest of the message.

\---  -.    --  -.--  .--   .-  -.--     -.-. 

O      N      M     Y        W    A      Y           C

 

Short and sharp and to the point, just what Jim had expected from the gunman. Now all they could do was sit and wait.

 

A few minutes later the boy from the Telegraph Office came running out and headed towards the Oriental Saloon.

 

Pushing himself away from the post he was leaning on the Sentinel made his way back to the jail, as he walked he became thoughtful;, Tanner was a Sentinel, he had felt the connection, a prickling sensation like an itch under his skin he couldn’t scratch when he had touched him. Also, he now recognised that Tanner’s scent had been on the gambler Standish, but he was puzzled by the other scent that marked the man. With a mental shrug he made a note to talk to Blair about it when they had a minute. Suddenly he set off at a run as he heard the fight in the jail.

 

Bursting through the door, he could see Blair and Wilson with the help of Fuller were trying to subdue the Prisoner, pinning him to the cot in the cell. An older man in a black frock coat was leaning over the writhing body with a scalpel in his hand. “For god sake keep him still.”  Doctor Thorpe dropped the scalpel back into his bag and fished out a brown bottle, and then searched round for a piece of cloth.

 

Blair gave a cry of pain and let go of an arm, allowing Tanner to swing his right fist round and hit Sheriff Wilson, before the younger man managed to grab hold of the arm again.

 

“Sorry”.

 

Wilson spat out a tooth, “Keep hold of him.” He increased his grip on the left arm, trying to pin Tanner down, his fingers already soaked in blood from the gunshot wound.

 

The prisoner was screaming at them in a mixture of Spanish, Kiowa, Comanche and English, the foul language enough to peel the paint from the cell walls.

 

Doctor Thorpe tipped the brown bottle up and splashed a little Chloroform onto the cloth, and approached, Tanner suddenly went limp and instantly Fuller eased off the prisoner’s legs.

 

“Finally getting a little sense there Tanner,” Wilson said as he fought to get his breath back. Blair looked up and gave a strained smile to his concerned Sentinel, one that said they now had it under control.

 

Jim moved forward;, he was sure now that this wasn’t just any old Sentinel, not a Beta or a Gamma, the nearer he got to Tanner, the stronger the vibes coming off him.  It could only mean one thing, this was an Apex Sentinel, just like him. 

 

The prisoner, sensing another Apex, raised his head.  Sweat or water soaked his long hair, plastering it across his face. Tanner’s lips pulled back in a feral snarl of challenge that seemed to vibrate up from his chest, the vivid blue eyes were ice cold and at the same time blazed with a fury, the flash in them was the only warning Jim got. As Vin Tanner managed to jerk one of his legs free from Fuller and kick the doctor in the groin as he lent over him, in his attempt to escape and attack the other Apex. The Deputy tried to secure him and got a kick in the head that bust his nose and put him down. Even as Vin Tanner tried to get free of the men holding his arms, Jim grabbed the Doctor’s cloth and somehow avoiding the thrashing legs managed to clamp the cloth over the prisoner’s mouth and nose and held on. Vin Tanner slowly went limp under his hand, this time he didn’t move as Blair carefully let go of the prisoner’s right arm.

 

“Thank god,” Wilson muttered as he let go of Tanner and the Sheriff put a hand to his mouth, and felt around for another loose tooth. “Bastard nearly bust my jaw,” then remembering Doctor Thorpe and his Deputy had been hurt, went to help them. Fuller was still out cold, but Wilson hooked a hand under the Doctor’s arm and managed to pull him to his feet.

 

Looking across at Vin Tanner, the doctor said, “Once you get him tied down, get Josh to take a look at him.  I am not touching that animal again.” Christian charity only went so far and the doctor decided it didn’t include savage murdering renegades like Vin Tanner.  Stiffly, one hand pressed his groin, he grabbed his bag and limped out of the cell. Opening the outside door he yelled for two men to give him a hand hauling the unconscious Fuller to his office. Closing the door behind them, then pulling the curtains, Jim cut off the view of the people gawking through the windows, before asking, “You all right Blair?”

 

His guide was stood rubbing his hand; the Sentinel could see the imprint of teeth marks on the fleshy part of his hand, which he was pretty sure was a perfect fit for Tanner’s teeth.

 

“Fine, Jim,” he paused “Sorry about letting him go Sheriff.” He offered his hand as proof.

 

“The bastard bit you, that’s a good enough reason for letting go,” taking off his bandana and was going to gag the prisoner when Blair stopped him, “If he starts throwing up because of the Chloroform, he could choke.”

 

Wilson swore, and looked at his blood-coated hands, “I best get Josh, at this rate he’s going to bleed to death.”  Pausing, he added “What I would like to know is now the hell he could fight like that with a hole in his shoulder.”

 

“This Josh another doctor?,” Jim asked.

 

“No, he’s the local horse doctor, but you ask me, it’s good enough for him.  When this plan of yours fails - and it will do Ellison, because there is no way a rabid killer like Larabee is going to agree to anything you or Travis are going to say to him - then the day after tomorrow we hang Tanner, and it won’t matter if a doctor or horse doctor works on his shoulder.”

 

Jim cut across him. “Sheriff Wilson, in the Oriental Saloon, you’ll find a gambler, red coat, Ezra Standish.  Bring him in here, and watch out he’s got a derringer strapped to his right arm, plus a shoulder holster and carries a Remington. Get him, and Wilson, leave Josh out of this for the moment.” 

 

“Why Standish?”  Then the penny dropped and he remembered, “ Oh, hell, Standish is part of the Larabee gang.” Anger flaring he got right into Jim Ellison’s face. “You might be Travis’s blue eyed boy Ellison, but this is my town, you should have told me about Standish,” Wilson snapped.

 

“I am now, Sheriff.” The sentinel’s voice was cold.

 

Wilson, muttering under his breath, left his office.  Once out of the office he stopped abruptly, and looked back.  What else was Ellison keeping from him?

 

Once alone, Jim went into the cell, looking down at the unconscious younger man. “He’s a sentinel, you know that?”

 

Blair nodded.  “We found out that the hard way, he’s an Apex.” Jim’s nod confirmed his words as he continued, “Only one of them could dial the pain down enough to fight like that without going into a zone out. He’s also feral, you heard that growling.  A feral Apex, never thought I would see one in my life time.”

 

“Not your life time, remember.”

 

“Yeah, sure.”

 

“He’s well and truly under for the moment, not that he’s going to stay that way long.” Going back into the office, Jim found the shackles and used them to secure the prisoner.

 

Walking out of the cell he saw the door open and Wilson came in with Standish at gunpoint. The Southern gambler was bleeding from the nose and mouth.

 

Wilson, seeing that Ellison was about to demand to know what had happened to the gambler he got in first. “Standish didn’t want to come with me, Marshal, I had to change his mind.”

 

Jim’s hand tightened at his side, as he fought the instinctive action of a Sentinel to protect a guide. It didn’t matter that Standish was not his guide, the very fact the Southern Gambler was a guide was enough to unleash a primal reaction in an Apex Sentinel like Jim Ellison. Without realising it, he moved forward, his hand rising to check the injuries on the smaller man.

 

“Keep your hands off me, Marshal.” Standish snarled at him. His eyes burned with a hatred that stopped Jim dead in his tracks, his hand dropping down.

Then, Standish was looking past him towards Vin Tanner, and he pushed past Ellison to get to the cell holding his friend.

 

“What the hell have you done to him, he needs a doctor.”

 

“That depends on what you have to tell us, Standish.” Jim said coolly.

 

“Mr Standish,” the southern accent was thicker, as he kept his anger leashed, the hatred masked, the poker face back in place.

 

“You telegraphed Larabee, and told him that Tanner was here and that he had to arrive before noon. I need to know what he’s going to do, and where Wilmington is.”

 

Ezra had taken the telegram blank with him, when he had left the Telegraph Office. “A gentleman doesn’t eavesdrop on another man’s private correspondence. But then a Yankee Sentinel is no gentlemen.” Ezra’s lips twitched into a parody of a smile, as he saw the barb go home.

 

Wilson was looking from Ezra Standish to Jim Ellison, “You’re a Sentinel.” There was disbelief in his voice; he had heard of Sentinels, even saw one once during the Civil War and had heard the rumours about their unnatural habits. Now here was one, and a Marshal, no less.

 

“A Sentinel, Sheriff Wilson, and Dr Sandburg is my guide, should have been up front with you from the start, but people tend to get a little uneasy when they know.” Jim stated it plainly.

 

Wilson conceded, “Can see your point Marshal, no harm done.”

But his voice showed his unease.

 

“So, we know what each other is, Mr Standish, now when is Larabee going to arrive and what’s he going to do?”  Jim asked.

 

 

“Chris Larabee is a force unto himself, Marshal.”  Ezra turned to look at Vin Tanner, “All I can tell you is that if anything happens to Vin, your town is going to run with blood.”

 

Jim picked up the keys, opened the other cell, “Get in Standish.”

 

“And you’re arresting me why?”

 

“Well, let’s start with a warrant for your arrest that Judge Travis swore out on you, for escaping jail.”

 

“A mere trifle, a misunderstanding Sheriff.”  Ezra appealed to Wilson.

 

But Wilson gave him a push propelling the gambler into the cell.

 

Blair caught Jim’s arm and pulled him to one side, “We have to get Tanner patched up.” The Sentinel cast his sense over the wounded man; he could detect the faint whiff of corruption among the heavy blood smell, then the increase in body temperature, and then another scent, that came off the younger man. Blair saw the way Jim’s jaw tightened, “What’s wrong?”

 

“Nothing.”

 

But his young guide could see that it was far from nothing, yet he knew better than to press.

 

 

“Sheriff, why don’t you go and get something to eat, we’ll take the first watch, no need to hurry back, I’ve got things to discuss with Standish.”

 

“If he’s-” Wilson began to protest.

 

“Don’t worry about Standish. We’ve got to patch Tanner up, Blair’s done some doctoring, and he’s got to be better than any local horse doctor.”

 

“Waste of time Marshal, Tanner’s hanging, all he’s got to be able to do is walk the 12 steps up to the noose.” Wilson spoke with conviction. “The man’s a murdering renegade, lived with savages, and not any better than them. Did you hear what he -”

 

“Go have your dinner Sheriff, you can spell us at 9.00 o’clock. Jim cut him off in mid-sentence, dismissing him, then added, “Blair, get the medical kit from the wagon.”

 

 

All the time they where talking, Ezra had moved as close as he could to Vin, his southern accent had dropped to a soft seductive tone. The smile he gave as Vin slowly began to respond to his voice was very different to the mocking smile he usually favoured the world with. His sentinel was waking.

 

0-0-0-0-0

 

Blair began to unlock the cell door, when Jim’s hand latched onto the back of his collar, and he was yanked backwards.

 

“Quit playing possum, Tanner.”

 

The wounded man slowly eased his legs off the bed as he pushed himself up into a sitting position. The pain was etched on his face, but he still managed a warm smile towards the gambler, which made Jim wonder just how old Tanner actually was.

 

“This is how it is, the doctor won’t touch you, after you kicked him in the balls,” Jim told him straight.

 

“Still with your winning ways, I see Mr Tanner,” Ezra put in.

 

Which was rewarded by a dry chuckle from Vin Tanner.

 

Jim ignored the gambler. “We’re the next best thing. I was a para-” The Sentinel ground to a halt, remembering just in time what he was about to say, and correcting himself continued. “ I helped out the surgeon a few time during the war, and I know enough to dig out a bullet.  We can do it one of two ways; the easy way or the hard way.”

 

0-0-0-0-0

 

Blair laid the medical kit out, taking the things out and laying them on the table, his back shielding the pressure syringes from view.

 

The younger man turned round as he heard retching as Tanner lost his battle against the effects of the chloroform.

 

“You can’t give him morphine,” Standish said, leaning against the bars trying to see what Blair was doing.

 

“I know, this stuff,” Blair waved a hand at the table, “is Sentinel safe, it will-”

 

“Can’t use it.” Jim shook his head, “his Sentinel system is already depressed by the chloroform. You’re going to have to talk him through it Standish.”

 

“Let me out, Marshal”

 

Jim unhooked the keys from the peg near the desk, tossed them across, and took a deep breath; there was no way the next half hour was going to be good for anyone.

 

0-0-0-0-0

 

9.00 pm 

 

Sheriff Wilson entered the jail, he was surprised to see Standish was now in the same cell as Tanner. Tanner was laid flat, eyes closed, thick bandages encircling his chest and shoulder. His right pants leg had been split and white bandage showed through, as did the circle of bandages on his left hand.  His skin look flushed and sweat was beading his face and chest, Standish was sat on the edge of the cot, slowly wiping him down with a cloth, trying to help break the low-grade fever that had begun to build an hour ago.

 

Seeing the Marshal sat in his chair behind his desk made Wilson’s blood boil, the man looked asleep and that Doctor Sandburg was sat leafing through the wanted posters. Un-natural, oh, they hide it well but everyone knew what Sentinel and Guides got up to, they could hardly keep their hands off each other. And if Tanner and Standish were Sentinel and Guide they were better off hanging from a rope. Ellison and by association Sandburg were law officers, he didn’t want them hurt, but the law sometimes needed a hand.

He coughed. “Marshal Ellison.”

 

Jim’s feet came down from the edge of the desk. “Evening Wilson. You won’t get any trouble from them, Tanner’s still out cold and Standish is keeping an eye on him. We’ll be at the Saloon if you need us, come on Sandburg.”

 

0-0-0-0-0

 

Murphy entered the livery stable.

 

“You took your time, Mr Murphy.” The voice made him spin round, his gun in his hand.  “That, mister, is a quick way to end up dead.”  Murphy spun his gun and put it back in his holster, and caught the bag of silver dollars thrown to him.

 

The speaker stepped out of the darkness; there was the sound of a match being struck, and then the glow of a cigar. “Tonight the good citizens of Blue Creek are spontaneously going to make a stand for law and order, and invite Vin Tanner to a necktie party.”

 

“Why the fuck didn’t you allow me to kill him on the trail, it would have been a lot easier.”

 

The man’s mouth twisted into a sardonic smile. “Killing Tanner would have deprived you off his company on the trail, and a warm body is a warm body, don’t you agree.” He took a pull on his cigar.

“Tonight you will use that money to get the not so good citizens drunk, and then lead them against the jail house.”  He put a hand up to still Murphy’s objection, “the Sheriff is on our side, it didn’t take much to convince him, nauseatingly good man that he usually is, that this was best for the town.”

 

“What about Ellison, kill a Marshal and-”

 

“I will take care of Messrs Ellison and Sandburg.”  The man said confidently.

 

“But-”

 

“Mr Murphy, the detail is all in the planning, Tanner had to arrive here, his failure to do so would have jeopardised my position, and Mr Murphy, I have worked too long to let that happen. Also, think on this, what do you think Larabee will do tomorrow when he arrives to find Tanner swing from the nearest tree? He’s going to kill anyone who got involved in the lynching, and top of his list is going to be Judge Travis, Marshal Ellison and Sheriff Wilson, three loose ends neatly tied up.”

 

“What about Sandburg?”

 

“I’ll deal with the good doctor, now if you want to continue earning your money, you’ll let me do the thinking.” The man dropped his cigar and ground it out with his foot, and then walked out, the light of the moon breaking through just in time to highlight the face of Ian Worth.

 

 

0-0-0-0-0

 

Judge Travis had invited Jim and Blair to join him for their evening meal. Both were surprised to see a newcomer with him. The man, when he stood up to shake hands, was taller than the judge, but there was a family resemblance round his eyes and jaw, which was confirmed when Judge Orin Travis made the introductions.

 

“Marshal Ellison, Dr Sandburg, I would like you to meet my brother, Sheriff Lom Travis[[1]](http://www.susans-stories.co.uk/Time%20and%20Tide.htm#_ftn1).  Given his history with Buck Wilmington, I have asked him to join us”.

 

Over the meal the conversation was kept to general topics, but later when they adjourned to the Judge’s room with a bottle of good whiskey and four glasses, and the Judge and his brother had their cigars lit, the conversation turned to Buck Wilmington.

 

“So, you’ve met him Sheriff?”

 

“Lom.”

 

“Sorry, Lom,” Blair corrected.

 

“Buck Wilmington.” Lom Travis smiled fondly. “That rogue can charm the birds from the trees; a good man”. He paused, and shook his head fondly at some memory or other. “Buck was working as my Deputy at Clear Ridge in the Territories.  I was lucky to get him. Buck, for all his liking for the ladies, is a good lawman and fast with a gun, just the type of man you need backing you up. What happened at Clear Ridge was this...”

 

 

**_Sheriff Lom Travis was sitting outside of the Jail, sipping his first cup of coffee of the day and watching the coming and goings of the town. Now, Lom in his time had seen some fast gunmen; Kid Curry[ [2]](http://www.susans-stories.co.uk/Time%20and%20Tide.htm#_ftn2) was fast, but the newcomer Chris Larabee was even faster. There was something almost inhuman about the way Larabee could draw and fire. What wasn’t widely known was that Kid Curry had only called out and killed one man, and that was only after the man had left him and his partner out in the desert to die. Usually Curry could wing his opponent or just outdraw him, stopping the other man in his tracks, intimidating them with his speed. But Larabee was a professional gunslinger, and every time he was called out he left a corpse cooling in the street. The man, it was said, had the charm of a pissed off rattle snake, and that was when he wasn’t angry. His temper was a thing of legend, and he was known to be a mean drunk. Now_ ** **_that man was in his town,_ ** **_and from where he sat Lom could see Larabee striding down the opposite side of the road, his black duster flapping round his ankles. In his all black clothing he looked like an angel of death. People crossed the road to avoid walking past him; it was as if Larabee’s presence sucked all the light and warmth out of the space he occupied. As he walked past, Larabee’s eyes had fixed on him, making Lom shiver. Sheriff Lom Travis had faced down many killers but Larabee was the first one to actually scare him and he was man enough to admit it._ **

****

**_His attention then settled on the next new arrival. The man was riding a big black horse with a white blaze on its face; his gut instinct was to say buffalo hunter, as he took in the filthy hide coat and the fringed rifle holster. The man wore a slouched old confederate cavalry hat, the brim was pulled down, throwing his face into shadow, and at his hip was a cut down Winchester; a mare’s leg. It was no surprise when he dismounted in front of the saloon, hitching the horse so it could drink its fill from the water trough as he slacked the saddle girth, making the animal comfortable. Something about the man made Lom sit up; going back into the jail he dropped the cup into a bucket of water and began to leaf through the wanted posters. Finally he halted his search._ **

****

WANTED

VIN TANNER

FOR MURDER

$500

DEAD or ALIVE

 

 

**_Tucking the poster into his pocket he checked his gun, and headed towards the Saloon._ **

**_Buck Wilmington had been enjoying a beer with Sally, one of the working girls, perched on his knee, when he saw the newcomer enter. Vin Tanner; he recognised the man, he had been Deputy at Clarksville when they had brought the butchered men in. Shit, there had been nothing left of them, Tanner had taken a bowie knife to the men it had turned his stomach. Buck drained his beer and whispered a quick promise in Sally’s ear and then eased her off his lap, just as Lom entered, pausing at the swing doors._ **

****

**_Buck went up to the bar next to Tanner and nodded to him. When the younger man turned to look at him, Buck indicated his glass and pushed the money across to the Bartender. “Another one Fred.”  Then to Tanner he added, “sure is a hot one.”_ **

****

**_Tanner just nodded and went back to his own drink._ **

****

**_Lom didn’t pull his gun until he was nearly up to Tanner, but he had seen Buck and knew his Deputy was ready to back his play._ **

****

**_Buck saw the wanted man tense slightly and realised that the Texan had been watching Lom in the mirror. So, it was no surprise when he heard Lom tell him he was under arrest._ **

****

**_When Tanner spoke there was a rasp to the soft Texas accent, “Not going to happen Sheriff.”_ **

****

**_Vin Tanner turned to look at the lawman; there was a certainty in those vivid blue eyes that made the Sheriff almost take a step back. Instantly he knew that the man was as wild and as dangerous as a Comanche warrior._ **

****

**_“I don’t want to shoot you Tanner, but unless you put your gun hand on top of the bar now, that’s the way it’s going to go down.”_ **

****

**_There was a long minute and then Tanner did as he was told; Lom took a step forward reaching for the Mare’s leg that the younger man wore instead of a Colt._ **

****

**_Tanner moved fast and Buck was nearly caught out, in one quick movement, Tanner twisted round, his hand knocking Lom’s gun to one side, his left hand fisting a Bowie knife aimed straight for the Sheriff’s stomach._ **

****

**_Buck brought his gun round, cold-cocking the younger man; Tanner’s body slumped to the floor of the Saloon, the Bowie knife falling from his hand._ **

**_Buck picked the knife up, “Nearly got you with this pig sticker Lom, that boy is a mean one alright. You okay?”_ **

****

**_“Fine.” But even as he said it, Lom Travis knew that it had been a close one._ **

****

**_It was then they heard the scrape of a chair being pushed back; Buck looked up as he turned to face it, Tanner was a loner  but you never knew. It was then out of the dark shadow at the back of the saloon he saw the black clad Chris Larabee appear. Buck’s face split into a wide grin. “Chris you old dog, what the hell are you doing here?”_ **

****

**_“You know him?” Lom put in._ **

****

**_“Sure, we go back some, Chris and me. Chris, just let me get this murdering scum out of here and-”_ **

****

**_“He belongs to me.” Four words, said softly but the tone of voice had the ice-cold bite of winter and for the second time in just a few minutes, Lom felt fear as he tried to meet the glare from the green eyes that bore into him._ **

****

**_“You claiming the reward, Larabee?”_ **

****

**_The smile was no improvement; it was like a wolf that had just entered a chicken coop. “No Sheriff, just want what belongs to me”._ **

****

**_Tanner was starting to come round; he managed to get onto his hands and knees, one hand pressed to his head._ **

****

**_“Can you get up, Tanner?”_ **

****

**_“Sure, Cowboy.” But the younger man was struggling, clawing at the bar to pull himself up._ **

****

**_Buck’s expression went from surprise to total disbelief; the quickest way to get shot was to call Larabee a Cowboy, and here was Tanner calling him it to his face._ **

****

**_“Help him up, Buck.” It wasn’t a suggestion, it was an order._ **

****

**_Buck Wilmington caught Tanner’s arm and dragged him up, pushing him none too gently against the bar. “Chris, there is no way you’re with this murdering bastard, he’s a  renegade, do you know what he did to those men he killed. I was there; I saw the fucking bodies when he was finished with them. I-”_ **

****

**_“Get on your horse and get out of town Tanner.”_ **

****

**_For a heartbeat, blue eyes met green, and whatever passed between them was enough for the younger man to trust the man in black to watch his back as he staggered out of the saloon._ **

****

**_A few minutes later there was the sound of horse hooves leaving town quickly. Only then did the gun pinwheel on Larabee’s finger and return to his holster, but his hand still rested on the gun._ **

****

**_“You allowed a killer to escape.” Lom snarled at Larabee._ **

****

**_“Going to arrest me for that, Sheriff?” The mockery was in that cold voice. Lom hesitated. “Just get out of town Larabee,” and the Sheriff turned on his heel and walked out of Saloon. He was no fool; Larabee had been spoiling for a fight, wanting him to push it._ **

****

**_Buck looked at this old friend, not sure what was going on but determined to find out. Nodding towards the bar, he said, “Beer.”_ **

****

**_“Beer.” Larabee confirmed and headed towards the bar._ **

 

 

Lom Travis poured himself another glass of whiskey, “So, I would have been dead if Buck hadn’t stopped Tanner there and then.”

 

“So what happened, did you go after him?” Jim asked.

 

Lom shook his head, “No, Tanner’s a sharpshooter.  He can shoot the balls off a fly at 100 yards, no way I was going to hunt him down, a man like that you have to get a jump on.” He took a moment to savour the whiskey. “Anyway, events got out of my hands. Clear Ridge was nice and peaceful, a lot of families arriving from the East,which meant money in the bank. It was robbed that afternoon and two young girls where taken hostage when the robbers escaped. If there were tracks we couldn’t find them; we needed a tracker and fast.”

 

“Tanner.” Jim supplied the answer.

 

Lom nodded. “Yeah, Tanner, only how the hell we were going to talk him into helping was something I didn’t even want to think about. So I ended up having to beard the lion in its den”, a smile touched Lom’s lips. “Well, the next best thing, I found Larabee in the Saloon.”

 

“He agreed to find Tanner and bring him back; I went with him out of good faith. That bastard Tanner clear on parted my hair with a shot, and you know what Larabee did, he laughed, turned out he didn’t know Tanner, they had met for the first time in the bar. Funny thing was, there was a connection between the two of them.”

At that, Blair leaned forward, but a touch on his arm stilled his questions before he could ask them. Lom Travis continued, “Tanner came back because of Larabee; he trusted him to watch his back, and he found the bank robbers for us, hell, they killed those men before they even knew we were there.” Lom shook his head; “He said it was as easy as licking butter off a knife, but hell, there was no one else that could have done what he did.”

****

“Did you try to arrest him?”

 

Lom looked Jim Ellison straight in the eye, “no, a deal was a deal. Also, if I was going to try and take Tanner, I would have had to have gone through Larabee, and I don’t have a death wish.” He took another sip of his whiskey, “When they left town, Buck went with them.”

 

Blair looked up from his notes, “What do you think of the deal the Judge is offering them?”

 

Lom scratched his chin, “If anyone had told me two months ago that the Governor would offer Hannibal Hayes and Kid Curry amnesty[[3]](http://www.susans-stories.co.uk/Time%20and%20Tide.htm#_ftn3) I would have called them a liar, way I see it Orin is just doing that on a larger scale.”

 

Jim looked at the clock, “We’d best be going, I want to check up on Tanner and Standish.  Come on Blair.” He collected his hat and coat. “Thanks for the dinner, Judge.”

****

Lom put in, “I would like to come with you if that’s okay, look in on Tanner later.”

 

“No problem, we’re on watch until midnight.”

 

0-0-0-0-0

 

The Oriental Saloon

 

Murphy grinned as he took another swig from the whiskey bottle. The crowd in the saloon wouldn’t take long to reach boiling point, and then Tanner would be swinging from the nearest tree.

 

0-0-0-0-0

 

Jim pushed the door to the jail open and then swore as he rushed in. Wilson was gone and the door to the prisoners’ cell was open.

 

0-0-0-0-0

****

At the same time, Wilson staggered into the Saloon. “The prisoners have escaped,” he stammered and then collapsed onto the sawdust floor. With a roar the men piled out of the Oriental, as the yell went up to find the prisoners and hang them.

 

Ian Worth knelt down by the side of the Sheriff, and helped the bartender manhandle the groggy man to the nearest chair. As the bartender scurried off to get him a drink, Worth leaned in close. “Well done, Sheriff.”

 

The eyes that looked back as him were clear and bright with no trace of any concussion.  Wilson had done his part and could expect his reward later.

 

0-0-0-0-0

 

Blair saw the yelling drunken crowd spill out of the Saloon and hefted the shotgun. He didn’t like guns, but he knew that he would be a liability without one. Already the hunt was on.

 

Suddenly, Blair halted in his tracks and he turned back to the Jail. Something was very wrong. Pushing open the door, an arm snaked around his throat as he was pulled in the door closed behind him with a bang. Blair found himself looking at Ezra Standish, so the owner of the knife at his throat had to be Vin Tanner. He swallowed hard, as the shotgun was pulled from his hands.

****

“I knew you would be here.” Blair managed to whisper.

 

“So where is your Sentinel, the good Marshal Ellison?” Standish asked.

 

“Looking for you. You have to get out of here, there’s a lynch mob after you.” Blair blurted out.

 

“Already heard them,” Vin drawled, his voice soft against Blair’s ear, “and you’re our ticket out of here”.

 

“You have to get to the hotel, Judge Travis will protect you.” Blair pleaded.

 

“Hanging Judge Travis?” Ezra shook his head at Blair’s stupidity. “You honestly think that we would fall for that Dr. Sandburg? Tell us why we should believe this improbable story.” The southern gambler's voice was ice cold.

 

“The Judge has a deal for Chris Larabee, that’s why Murphy had tobring Tanner to Blue Creek from Tascosa. He needs something from Larabee.” Blair directed his next words to the man holding a knife at this throat, “and you’re Larabee’s reward Mr. Tanner. You have to believe me, listen to my heartbeat.  Vin, you’d know if I was lying.”

 

Blair breathed a sigh of relief as he felt the knife slowly move from his throat, and he was allowed to step away and turn to face Vin Tanner.

 

“He’s telling the truth Ez.” Vin confirmed.

 

The gambler had moved so that he was looking through a slit in the curtains, “Then we had better relocate from these premises Mr Tanner, as quickly as possible, as we are running out of time, and the local population seem to have certain unhealthy designs on our persons.” 

 

Seeing the look of disbelief on the young doctor’s face, a smile twitched at Vin’s lips. “You get used to Ez, he really likes those 10 dollar words.”

 

Standish shook his head; “Mr Tanner, anyone that can articulate more than four words in a row has the upper hand over you.”

 

The noise of the lynch mob was getting louder as they searched and became more frustrated. Already some of the empty buildings had windows and doors kicked in, and flames began to catch hold.

 

Blair chanced a look round the side of one of the buildings; they had gotten out of the jail just ahead of one of the search parties.

 

 

He glanced over his shoulder; Vin was leaned against the wall breathing hard, only staying upright by sheer will power and the strong grip of his Guide. But you didn’t have to be a Sentinel to know that Vin Tanner was in a bad way, and wouldn’t be able to go much further.

The next twenty minutes for Blair Sandburg was a living nightmare of the most lethal type of hide and seek; as the two guides manhandled the injured man round the backs of buildings and outhouses, as they made their way to the rear of the Hotel. Finally, they burst into the Judge’s room, Blair yelling “No” as the Judge brought the coach gun to bear on them at the same time his brother threw down on them. Sandburg threw himself in front of the two prisoners, arms outstretched, shielding them from the Judge and Lom Travis.

 

“It seems you were right Marshal,” Travis said to Jim Ellison as the Sentinel stepped out from where he had been standing out of sight. “Dr Sandburg did get them to come here.”

 

“Blair?”

 

“Fine Jim, but it did get a bit hairy out there,” he shuddered.

 

“Standish, lose those guns.” Jim ordered.

 

The Gambler placed his guns one by one onto the floor. “It seems that we are in your hands, Judge Travis.”

 

“Get Tanner’s guns, Standish,” Jim added.

 

Lom Travis kept one eye on the crowd milling around on the street; he swore as he saw the hotel owner rush out, talking quickly then pointing back up to the hotel room.

“Oh, hell.”

 

Startled, they all looked at the Feral Sentinel as Vin chuckled. “Hell.” He cocked his head, his eyes flashing with an unholy light, “You’re in hell and the devil's just arrived.”

 

It was then that Jim felt it, a presence, like nothing he had ever felt before, dark and forbidding as it rolled into the town. He looked across at Vin Tanner and saw the look on his face, the sardonic smile, the blue fire that flashedand burned in Vin Tanner’s eyes,then Jim turned to look at Ezra Standish, the gambler, as he just stood there adjusting his cuffs and jacket as if he didn’t have a care in the world. But when he looked up and held Jim’s gaze, Standish’s  eyes showed a green fire.

 

 “Jim, er you’d better see this.” Blair has moved to the window when he had felt the vibes ripping through him.  He had experienced many Alpha Apex, Beta and Gamma Sentinels, as a guide he felt their psychic fingerprint.

But this was different; the darkness, the anger barely kept in check, the bitterness, a killer, a Predator, oh, god, a Predator Apex,unheard of. Blair’s head snapped round to look at Vin Tanner; there was no way a Predator and a Feral should exist together, they should tear each other apart.

 

Jim stood looking over Blair’s shoulder, as he saw the horseman appear out of the darkness, the red flames from the fires bathing him in red light across his all black clothing and horse as he made his way towards the hotel.

If a man had come straight out of hell, it was this man.  Chris Larabee.

 

It was something that Blair never thought he would see, one man standing off a whole lynch mob.  But that one man looked like he had stepped straight out of Hell.

 

One of the leaders; a  drunk called Matt Brown, took a deep pull from his bottle, and stepped forward. “Get out of the way, Cowboy, we have a savage to string up, right boys?” He waved his bottle in the air, his courage boosted by the angry mob behind him.

 

“Did he just call me a cowboy Buck?” The man in black asked.  His tone was almost friendly, except the smile that twisted his lips was chilling.

 

“Sure sounded like it, Chris,” a voice answered off to the left, as a tall, dark haired moustached man came into view, a Winchester rifle in his hands. Then he added with a grin, “Old Chris here don’t cotton to being called a Cowboy.”

 

“Then, Mister, you can get out of the fucking way, come on boys they can’t stop us,” Brown said.

 

“Larabee, the name’s Chris Larabee,” the man in black’s hand dipped - the colt came out and fired and then pin wheeled back into his holster, the bottle Brown had been holding smashing, drenching him with whiskey.

 

The lynch mob took a step back, suddenly cold sober; they had all heard of Chris Larabee, the man was a notorious killer.

 

 

At the back of the mob, Murphy melted away into the dark.  Worth wasn’t paying him enough yet to take on Larabee, and when he did, it wasn’t going to be a fair fight.

 

Larabee watched the mob disperse, his head tilted slightly to one side, and he looked up at the hotel behind him.  Suddenly he spun, his duster flaring out around his heels as he turned and stalked into the hotel.

 

Leaving Buck Wilmington to follow him, shaking his head in amusement. Chris was as angry as a pissed off rattler coming off a five day drunk, God help the men holding Vin Tanner.

 

In the room, Jim swore and then brought his gun up, cocking it, “One more word out of you Tanner, and I’ll lay you out.”

 

“Marshal, Tanner hasn’t said anything,” Lom Travis said, his face showing his puzzlement.

 

“He’s talking to Larabee; it’s sub-vocal, all I can hear is a rumble, but he’s talking to him.”

 

Jim turned to face the door as it all but came off its hinges, and Larabee stood there.

 

As the green-eyed gunman’s gaze swept over the occupants of the room, Blair saw the light in them flare to flames as they focused on Tanner and Standish. “That’s impossible,” Blair breathed, then stumbled back a step as those same green eyes bore into him. Before finally they found Jim Ellison and locked on him and burned with a killing fury.

 

 

Jim recognised Larabee from his photograph; the good-looking blond was just as imposing as his picture.  He could feel the black aura that poured off him; it was dark, cold and dangerous.

 

Chris Larabee’s attention fixed onto Judge Orin Travis. “You wanted me here Judge, I am here.” Straight and to the point.

 

Orin Travis decided pleasantries were a waste of time. “A simple deal Larabee; there’s a town called Four Corners in the New Mexico Territory, it’s lawless, the locals are being run off by-”

 

“Get to the point, Judge,” Larabee cut across him impatiently.

 

Judge Orin Travis banked his anger down. “I need peacekeepers that aren’t going to be run off, and in return for one year of peacekeeping, I will look into the murder charges currently outstanding on Mr Tanner.”

 

“No,” Larabee said. “You’ll drop the murder charges; when Vin killed those men he was a sentinel revenging the murder of his family, it’s allowed.”

 

“I know the law Mr Larabee, so what I have to ask is why Mr Tanner didn’t tell the authorites he was a Sentinel,” Judge Travis put in levelly.

 

“I isn’t a sentinel, I am a Guardian,” Vin snarled, “and they didn’t care, said that because my family was Indian it didn’t count,” the Texas accent got thicker as he fought to control his emotions.  “ My Ma Little Deer  was cut from her privates to her throat, and my kid sister  was raped and gutted.  She was 9. My Pa Black Crow had his head cut off with an axe; all of them was scalped. I was told to forget it, they were just savages.” Ezra reached out his hand, wrapping it around Vin’s arm as the tracker halted; the memories flooding through him as he saw again the carnage left by the scalp hunters.  The touch of his guide’s hand steadied the Sentinel, stopping him going feral as he nearly lost control of his emotions.

 

“I am truly sorry, Mr Tanner,” Judge Travis’s voice showed his sincerity. “You must believe that if this had been brought in front of me, I would certainly not have allowed this injustice to have happened.” He paused. “Even so, most men would agree, that how you exacted your revenge surpassed the usual bounds of civilized behaviour.”

 

“I aint civilized Judge, that’s the truth, so you can’t expect me act like it.”

 

“Judge,” Blair said, “Mr Tanner is a Feral Apex Sentinel; I can vouch for the fact that for a Feral the violence of the revenge would have been logically allowed. I’d sign a statement to this effect, and I would stand up in court and say it.”

 

Travis nodded; he didn’t understand all the in’s and out’s about Sentinels but the doctor did and he would speak to him later in more detail, however  at the moment he had a deal to seal. “During this year, I will look into the murder of Jess Kincaid, of which you stated at your trial your innocence.  If at the end of that time I am satisfied, you’ll be cleared Mr Tanner, and all the posters will be cancelled. That is the deal I am offering.”

 

“If I run?” Vin asked.

 

“Then Mr Tanner, I will issue a reward of $5,000 dollar reward - Wanted Dead - and wait for your corpse to be brought in. During the year the reward poster will still circulate, I can’t recall them. But I can make sure that if you’re ever brought in to any of the surrounding towns, Mr Larabee is the first person notified and offer protection if any lawmen come to Four Corners.” The Judge paused. “It’s late; think on it, and give me your answer tomorrow.”

 

“It’s not safe for them to go back to the jail, I think it’s better if they use Blair’s room.  He can bunk in mine, and I’ll keep watch on the landing,”  Jim said.

 

Leaning against the door frame was Buck Wilmington; he had arrived on the heels of Chris Larabee, watching his back for him.  For a big man he moved silently and had been overlooked, something that could, Jim knew, have proven fatal because he effectively countered any play that Lom Travis might have made.

 

“You take Vin, and I’ll keep the Marshal company, Chris.”

 

“Marshal.” The title was said deceptively mildly. Jim didn’t see the blow coming, the right cross putting the Sentinel down, and even as he hit the floor he was looking up into the gun of Chris Larabee.

 

“Chris, no,” Ezra yelled and started forward only to be pulled back by Vin.

 

“He shot Vin, you expect me to let that go Ez?”

 

“No, of course not, but he could have killed Mr Tanner-”

 

Jim saw the slightest twitch of Larabee’s finger on the trigger.

 

“Thanks Standish, I really needed you to remind him of that,” Jim drawled sarcastically as he rubbed his aching jaw.

 

“My pleasure, Marshal,” Ezra said then added, “but my point is Mr Larabee that the Marshal was very careful not to seriously injure Mr Tanner, and he has helped to patch him up so that he will recover fully from his wounds.  Also, I don’t think that the Judge would be happy for us to accept the deal if you splatter the floor with the good Marshal’s brains. And that deal would be Mr Tanner’s salvation.”

 

For a moment there was deathly silence, then, “Remember this Marshal, Tanner is mine, and you touch him again and I’ll kill you – and the same goes for Standish.”

 

As quick as it was pulled, the gun went back into its holster. Only then did Buck, Lom and the Judge lower their weapons.

 

 

0-0-0-0-0

 

Once in the bedroom, Vin made straight for the window.

 

“Where do you think you’re going?” Chris asked, as he began to shed his long black duster, his flat brimmed hat already hanging off the nearest chair.

 

“Out of here.” 

 

Vin was tugging at the window, which wouldn’t open.

 

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” Although his words were softly spoken, there was an aggression to them that would have scared most men shitless.

But Vin ignored it and kept tugging at the window,  _why the hell wouldn’t it open?_   He had to get out of here; he couldn’t be trapped in the room.

 

A black clad arm wrapped round his waist, carefully avoiding the bandages, a face pressed to the side of his neck as he heard the other sentinel inhaling his scent trying to calm him down. But Vin wasn’t ready yet; he had to get out of there.

 

His good elbow came back hard catching Chris in the side, as Vin spat “Fuck off, Larabee,” and twisted free, bolting for the door.

 

“You little bastard,” Chris exploded, gasping for breath, and sprang across the double bed that took up the centre of the room, bringing Vin crashing down, the older man trying to control the fall. Chris took the brunt of the landing and the tracker was already scrambling up, and reaching for the door when a heavy weight hit his back. Vin couldn’t stop a scream of pain from his bad shoulder and for a moment everything almost blacked out as he was pushed up against the door.

 

Chris knew that the younger man was weakening, he could feel the slight fever radiating off the slender body as he pinned him with his full body weight against the door. But Vin still wasn’t about to give up yet as he was manhandled round to face the angry Predator Sentinel, his Alpha.  Vin lashed out with a fist; the blow was hard enough to make Chris lose his grip long enough for the younger man to push him backward and yank open the door, almost making it onto the landing.

 

“Get your scrawny ass back in here,” Chris bellowed, as with a throated growl, he lunged forward, his weight smashing into Vin, sending him down face first on to the carpet. A knee in the back kept the younger man down, even as he snarled and spat curses at the older sentinel in at least three Indian dialects, Spanish and English. 

 

Buck caught hold of Jim Ellison and pulled him back, ignoring the glare he got for touching him even as Jim broke his hold on his arm. 

 

“Best leave well alone, the old dog’s going to have to put the pup in his place.”

 

Then Vin was dragged up; when he struggled, he was cuffed across the back of the head, an attention getter, and was dragged back into the room.

 

The door slammed shut, and Vin found himself spun round and pushed up against it.  When he brought his knee up hard, the older man managed to twist out of the way, and banged Vin back against the door hard enough for it to rattle on it’s hinges.

 

For a moment, Vin blacked out, his body still pinned by Chris Larabee, one knee pushed up between his thighs anchoring him in place to stop the limp body falling down to the floor. It was then that he came round, memories crashing down on him from his time on the trail, of Murphy and his men, touching, and taking what they wanted from him.  Even bound he had still fought them and he wasn’t going to give up now.

 

Chris had his arms full of struggling and cursing Vin Tanner; locked into the memories the Predator did the only thing it knew - it used its superior strength over the now rapidly weakening Feral Pup and pulled him into a full body hug. Making a safe, protected place for him in his arms. 

 

The young feral snarled at his older dominant Predator; it had been alone too long to give up control and snapped at him as he lent in to scent the Feral's throat, the Predator catching a handful of the long hair near the scalp and pulling Vin’s head sideways, growling a warning. The Feral had to learn to accept that he was no longer alone, and that the Predator would protect him as his Alpha Sentinel, and as a man, as his friend.  This time the younger feral submitted, with only soft growls voicing its protest.

 

The deep growl of the Predator grew louder as it detected the scent of Ellison and other men on his soul mate, but under that was the scent of sex and fear.  When the younger man would have dropped his head, the Predator wouldn’t allow him, and rubbed his face against the younger Feral, giving him his protection and his strength. Green eyes met blue and the fire arched between them; the heat and the intensity grew. Suddenly, the Predator stopped.  The Feral, with a snarl, nipped at his Alpha’s throat and chin to get his attention. The Predator calmed his young Feral, and eased him away from the door to sit on the bed.  Now that the feral had calmed, the Predator knelt down in front of him.  Chris reached out, and undid Vin’s shirt when the younger man fumbled with the buttons. “I’ll get it, Vin.” Chris’s voice was soft and caring, something that to anyone that knew his reputation would never have believed he was capable of. Easing the shirt open, he checked the bullet wound, and frowned as he saw the blood stains on the white bandages. Rising, he helped Vin shed his buckskin jacket and then the shirt.

“I’ll get Dr Sandburg.”

“No.”  Vin grabbed for his hand, “In the morning.”

Seeing the need in the younger man, Chris nodded.  Then his head suddenly cocked towards the door.

 

Ezra Standish was stood talking to Jim and Buck, his back to the door, when it opened and a black clad arm snaked out.  A hand latched onto the back of Standish’s jacket and he was hauled backward into the room, the door closing behind him.

 

Jim started forward only to be blocked by Buck Wilmington.

 

There was a crack from a derringer, followed by a blood-curdling roar.

Then, an indignant squawk from the room which sounded suspiciously like the normally unflappable southerner, and on it’s heels the crack of a second derringer bullet being fired.

 

“Next time, Mr Tanner, it’ll be your-” Ezra  broke off then.

“Keep your hands off me, that’s a $20 dollar shirt.”

“You can’t Mr Larabee, I forbid that, I am your guide, not a chew toy.”

There was a loud yelp, and “unhand me sir!” Then a sound of a fist on flesh and a cry of pain.

 

There was a loud bang at the door as if someone was again struggling to get out.

 

“Easy, Ellison,” Buck warned, “that would have been Ezra, he don’t like being manhandled.”

 

The noise that emerged next sounded like something had just collapsed.

Buck cocked his head; this was something he was well versed in as he offered up the option. “Sounds like the bed just collapsed,” he grinned at Jim, and then added as if by way of explanation. “It’s okay, they won’t hurt Ez, at the moment he’s as pissed off as a wet hen, but he’ll get over it.  He’s as safe with those two as a club with its Mama.” Settling himself down, Buck made himself comfortable - it was going to be a long night.

 

It was the early hours of the morning when Lom Travis took over from Jim, and he made it back to his room. Somehow he wasn’t surprised when he saw Blair was still awake.

 

“How did it go?”

 

“Standish is in with them now, it sounded a bit extreme, but it’s all settled down.” Jim accepted the glass of whiskey and lowered himself into the only chair in the room. “Mind explaining to me what the hell is going on?”

 

Blair was all but bouncing with suppressed energy.  “For God’s sake sit down Darwin, you’re making me tired just looking at you.”

 

“This is so, so, out of this world man - a Predator and a Feral, no one’s reported on seeing them in the last hundred years.” He paused, “Okay, so that’s not relevant, but Jim, I get the chance to study them up close.”

 

“And get your head blown off.”

 

“Jim-”

 

“Blair, these men are dangerous, remember what Simon said. Hell, you didn’t hear the claiming that went on before Standish arrived, I though they were going to kill each other.”

 

“What happened?”

 

Jim drowned his whiskey and reached for the bottle, ignoring the question.

  
”Please Jim, what happened,” Blair pleaded.

 

“The Predator claimed and dominated the Feral.  From what Buck was saying, Chris had been tearing up the countryside trying to find Vin before he hung. It appeared that Vin had done his disappearing act, after Chris told him he couldn’t go off on his own, and that was when he was caught, so Vin’s ass was grass where the Predator was concerned.  He had to bring the Feral pup in line.”

 

“Pup?”

 

“Yeah, that’s what Buck called him.”

 

“Jim, Larabee is not putting together a gang or a clan, he’s putting together a PACK.”  Blair started to pace. “We have never understood the dynamics of the Predator. Chris would have had to have been an Alpha Apex – now, he was married, so the odds are that his wife might have been his guide.”

 

“Buck is a Gamma Sentinel, but-”

 

“He has guide in him as well, I could feel it, so it might be that between his wife and Buck, Chris was keeping a balance, but when his wife and child,  died, he burned out, and instead of killing himself, which many would have, unable to function, Chris Larabee became a Predator, and that darkness closed in around him. In Vin Tanner he found a friend, and the Predator found a young Feral that needed him, and the one man that, no matter what his persona is, be it man or Predator, never backs down from him. And the reason we don’t get them now is that in the case of the guide dying, we have the medical technology to help them, until they can bond again. Same with the Feral, any over aggressive Sentinel is helped with drugs to maintain their balance.”

 

“Nature should take its course, Blair. So, because of science we have lost the Predator and the Feral, and only the Alpha Apex remains.  How long before they castrate us Alpha Apex, because an Apex is too dangerous and they only allow the tamer beta and submissive Gamma to exist?”

 

“I just don’t know Jim,” Blair’s excitement drained out of him, as he thought over what Jim had just said.

 

Jim put his glass down, and then reached out for Blair, allowing his own fire to come up into his eyes, as the need to bond and join with his guide began to overwhelm him. Without fear, Blair stepped into the Sentinel’s personal space, wrapping an arm round his waist and leaning to place his head over Jim’s heart. A feeling of being cherished and protected washed through him.

 

0-0-0-0-0

 

Murphy was pushing his clothing into his saddle bags, “if they let Tanner go there is no way I am hanging around, that bastard is going to come after me with that pig sticker of his.”

 

“If you had done your job he would be hanging by now,” Worth put in levelly.

 

“How the fucking hell was I suppose to know that Larabee was going to turn up?” Murphy exploded.

 

“That is now a moot point, Mr Murphy. I want you and your partner to get to Four Corners ahead of Larabee and his gang, and you start working on the townspeople; Travis’s idea can’t work if the local people are against them.

As an idea, see Mary Travis and make sure she is aware of Mr Larabee’s reputation as a bad element.  The woman is as prim and prissy as they come, she won’t even let working girls ply their trade from the saloon. She is one of the leaders of the community, due to the fact Travis is her father in law, and she runs the local paper. Paint her a really good picture of what to expect.”

 

0-0-0-0-0-0

 

Blair halted outside the door to Chris Larabee’s room, as the door flew open.

 

“No, Mr Larabee, black does not go with this jacket and waist coat.”  Ezra held a buckskin coat between his fingers and thumb, “and I will not wear your jacket, Mr Tanner.”

 

“What’s wrong with it,” Vin demanded, indignant that Ezra would turn down a chance to wear his much prized coat.

 

“What, indeed, is right with it?” He tossed the coat to Vin and with a shudder walked out of the room. The southerner touched two fingers to the brim of his hat in greeting to his fellow guide, “Sentinels.”  One word that spoke volumes, then with a smile that flashed his gold tooth, he walked away.

 

0-0-0-0-0

 

Judge Travis looked at the four men in front of him.  “Well, do I have your answer, Mr Larabee?”

 

“You have your deal, Judge.”

 

“Dr Sandburg and Marshal Ellison will escort you to Four Corners, that way we can guarantee Mr Tanner arrives there.”

 

“You think I would go back on my word?” Chris growled.

 

“No, Mr Larabee, but with bounty hunters still out there, I want to make sure that he arrives.”

 

Jim handed Vin his mare’s leg and the two other knives he carried.  And for the second time in 24 hours he found himself looking up at the ceiling.

“No Sentinel touches me, Ellison.  Remember that.”  Vin said with a snarl, then suddenly a smile lit up his face and the vivid blue eyes.  Reaching down with his good hand as he helped Jim back to his feet, he said in that soft, rasping Texas-accented voice, “ I know I shouldn’t hit my elders but you had it coming,” he grinned at Larabee before adding, “You’re near on as old as Chris here,” then ducked a side swipe from his friend.

 

Once on his feet Jim rubbed his jaw; Vin packed one hell of a punch for his slender build, but then the man was all lean muscle, not an ounce of fat on his body from what he had seen. Jim knew he and Blair would have to keep on their toes if this was going to work.

 

****

**_End of Part One_ **

 

[[1]](http://www.susans-stories.co.uk/Time%20and%20Tide.htm#_ftnref1) The character Sheriff Lom Travis is from the series Alias Smith and Jones.

[[2]](http://www.susans-stories.co.uk/Time%20and%20Tide.htm#_ftnref2) Kid Curry as depicted in the series Alias Smith and Jones, played by Ben Murphy

[[3]](http://www.susans-stories.co.uk/Time%20and%20Tide.htm#_ftnref3) The two outlaws Hayes and Curry had to go straight for a year in order to get their amnesty but during that time were still wanted: Alias Smith and Jones.


	2. Part  Two

Four Corners

New Mexico Territory

 

J D Dunne had left Boston upon the death of his mother; the money she had saved was not enough to play for a college education. So, he had sold what he could of their possessions and bought a one-way ticket west. Finally finding himself at Four Corners, he had taken up the offer of being a Deputy for Sheriff Carr - hell he had been the only candidate - but it got him what he wanted. He was finally living the life he had only read about in the dime novels.

JD roughly brushed away the tears of frustration; Sheriff Carr had hightailed it out of town when he had heard the trail crew of the dead Ben Fallon getting drunk in the saloon. As Deputy, JD knew he had done his best, but it was pitiful; he had been knocked out, dragged and dumped in his own jail, as the cowboys had gone after Nathan Jackson, the black healer they blamed for the death of their boss. JD had been yelling for help, beating on the bars, but no one would come to help him. Suddenly, the door to the jail opened and the blonde, petite figure of Mary Travis rushed in, her dark red dress covered with dirt.

 

“Mrs Travis.”

 

“I am alright, Mr Dunne, but they’re at the cemetery, they’re going to hang Nathan and you have to stop them.”

 

Once the lock on the door was sprung, JD rushed out, grabbing his guns and began to run down the road towards the cemetery.  As he got close he heard a flurry of gunshots, and then silence. Slowly walking towards him was Nathan Jackson, flanked by two men; one was dressed all in black, the other wore a battered hide jacket, a Winchester rifle resting against his shoulder. They looked at him, seeing the badge and dismissed him, they didn’t  even breaking stride as they walked past.

 

Looking beyond them he saw the bodies laying stretched on the ground.

 

“Nathan?”

 

The black healer was rubbing his throat, “JD”.  He stopped, seeing the dried blood on the younger man’s collar, “You’d best let me check you, head wounds can be nasty.”

 

JD brushed the healer’s hand away, his face showing the grief he felt at letting a man  he thought of as a friend down. “I should have-”

 

“You did your best JD, and I thank you for standing up for me, many men wouldn’t have.” Then he added, “Come on,” as he gently took the younger man’s arm and led him down to the saloon.

 

“Who are they?” JD asked of the two men walking ahead of them.

 

“Don’t know, but I aim to buy them a drink or three.”

 

But before he could enter the Saloon, Tom Miller rushed up to him, grabbing at his arm and trying to pull the healer with him towards his wagon in a panic, “It’s my son, he’s cut his hand open, you have to help.”

 

Nathan tried to calm the man, “JD, go and get my bag from the clinic.  Now how did it happen, Mr Miller?”

 

 

0-0-0-0-0

 

On the rise over looking the town, Jim Ellison gave a sigh of relief.  He had watched Nathan being rescued, and looked over at his guide as Blair lowered the binoculars. Blair asked, “That was close, Jim, but how did you know that Larabee and the others would help Nathan?”

 

“You have to trust the time-line sometimes; that told us that basically they were decent men, as they had saved him once before, and given that Vin could be hung, then he’s more likely to try and stop a lynching.” Jim grinned at his guide as he got up and offered his hand to pull the smaller man to his feet, as he added, “A Soul Mate will follow were his Soul Mater leads,” as if that was all he needed to say to explain why Chris Larabee would follow Vin’s  lead.

 

“So, the moment Vin was committed to helping Nathan, Larabee had to follow.” Blair paused, “It’s been interesting watching them interact, they certainly don’t act like any pairing I have ever seen.”

 

“That’s because they’re not a pairing,” Jim clipped Blair’s hair lightly, “remember Darwin. Two sentinels and one guide, somehow that Southerner balances the two of them, but how the hell he does it, I don’t have a clue.”

 

Blair just shrugged, “Normally I can get a feel of another guide, but Ezra, he’s blocking me.  We need to know his history.” Blair bit his lip, “I think I am going to have to try Buck, if anyone will talk it will be him.”

 

Jim nodded his agreement; the jovial gunman was the most approachable of the men, if they could get him talking it might answer a lot of questions.

 

0-0-0-0-0

 

Entering Four Corners, it was easy to see the problem that was eating the heart out of the town.  Nearly half of the stores had wood boarding up the windows, and the people left were obviously scared. 

 

The livery was one of the few businesses that was booming.  Tiny Howard took care of horses and for an extra dollar allowed them to leave the wagon parked by the side of his barn.

 

“Any ideas were they are, Jim?”

 

The Sentinel tilted his head slightly, and a smile touched his lips as he heard the booming voice of Buck Wilmington coming from the saloon. Jim jerked a thumb in the direction of the voice, “You go and keep an eye on them, and I’ll find JD.” Jim didn’t like having to lower the boom on the kid, but he was going to have to understand that whilst he might have the badge, that it was Chris Larabee who was going to be the leading the Regulators. 

 

0-0-0-0-0

 

The Saloon

 

 Pushing open the bat wing doors of the saloon, Blair entered and looked round; he saw that Larabee was sat at a corner table where he could see the front and back doors, and seated next to him was Vin Tanner.  The tracker was slouched low in his chair, his hat brim pulled down, shielding his eyes.  Nearby, within easy reach of their table was Ezra; it was no surprise to see the gambler had already managed to get a poker game going.  His heart hammering in his chest, as green, then blue eyes drilled into him, he was just thinking that this was not a good idea when Buck came up, slinging an arm around the younger man’s shoulder and smiled. “Hell Blair, you know they don’t bite,” then added with a squeeze of his arm, “Not much that is.”  He then propelled Blair towards the table, at the same time as he snagged a beer from the counter.

 

During their journey to Four Corners, the men had put up with the constant questioning of the young academic; the fact that Larabee only threatened to shoot him twice showed that even the notoriously foul-tempered gunman was, on a subconscious level, reacting to the fact that he was a guide. Guides had to be tolerated and protected; Blair hoped that would continue because Larabee scared the hell out of him.

 

“More questions, Sandburg?” The voice was cold.

 

“No, Mr Larabee, just wondering how you were going to handle holding down the law here, it’s not going to be easy.”

 

Tanner’s lips twitched into a smile, “Chris is the meanest son of a bitch in town, hell, he is the bad element Travis was talking about.”

 

“Tanner,” Larabee warned.

 

“Just telling him how it is, Cowboy.”

 

“Did he just call me a Cowboy, Buck?”  His voice taking on a deadly tone.

 

“Sure did, Chris, Junior here is feeling his oats,” the big man put in, enjoying himself as he watched his Alpha and the Feral pup sparring.  Chris’s tone would have had any normal person heading for the hills, but Tanner just ignored it, favouring the older man with a grin of pure devilment, letting it roll over him, knowing damn well that Chris wasn’t going to do anything to him.

 

“Scraggy assed tracker,” Chris grumbled and poured another shot out of his whiskey bottle, only to have the glass snagged and downed by Vin.

 

“You can be replaced, Tanner.”

 

The knowing grin went straight to the part of Chris that was the Predator Apex Sentinel, and he had to fight to keep it under control. But the glare in Chris’s eyes promised that he relishing the idea of getting even with the younger man later.

 

“You cheated.” An angry voice accused, accompanied by the crash of a chair being thrown backward.

 

“I can reassure you, Sir, that I only played the cards I have been given.  I have no need to cheat.” The southern accent cut across he accuser as smoothly as a good whiskey.

 

Chris got to his feet, looming up behind the still seated Ezra.  Now, Ezra was a fast gun in his own right and had been looking after himself longer than he cared to remember. But the moment that he sensed his Alpha Sentinel, he knew that it was going to be taken out of his hands. Threaten the Guide and the Predator Alpha came out; it was a second later that he registered, without having to turn around, that the Feral was standing off to one side, covering the Alpha’s back. The Gamma was still seated but was moved so that he had the others covered, at the same time protecting Blair from harm.

 

Blair watched it all in amazement; he knew that this confirmed what he had already thought, that this was a pack working together, ready to take down the person that was threatening one of their own.

 

The man’s hand hovered over the butt of his gun, “Keep out of this mister.”

 

“Mr Larabee, I am quite capable of handling-” That was as far as the gambler got.

 

“Lar . . . Larabee?” the man stuttered, his face going pale.

 

“Yeah, you got a problem with Ezra?”

 

“He…. He…-”

 

“Ezra is that good he don’t need to cheat,” the soft raspy Texan voice of Vin Tanner cut in.

 

The man was now sweating hard.  His friends at the other tables were backing away; they were all too happy to yell their support of him when it was just them against a lone gambler, but now, against Chris Larabee, they were suddenly silent.

 

“Take your money and get out.”

 

Quickly, the man scooped up his money and then backed away from the table, half way across the saloon floor, he saw the look on his so-called friends’ faces.  He held his position on Colonel Marcus Reed’s ranch because he was a hard man, ready to back his word up with his gun or fists.

He spun round fast, his hand dipping towards his gun.  His fingers only grazed it when he was thrown backwards by a bullet that ploughed through his head. The gun pin-wheeled on Chris Larabee’s finger and was slipped  back into his holster, then the gunman’s hand patted Ezra’s shoulder and he went back to the table, taking his seat and reaching for the shot glass of whiskey that Vin pushed towards him.

 

Blair’s mouth had dropped open; the speed was inhuman, he had seen Jim practicing and he had thought that he was fast, but Chris Larabee was something else, hell, he would love to get the man into the testing labs back home.

 

The saloon bat wings came flying open as JD ran into the Saloon. Buck rolled his eyes to the heavens.  The kid would get his head blown off, rushing into the saloon like that just after a gun fight.

 

JD knew he had failed the town because he hadn’t been able to protect Nathan and this time he wasn’t going to fail.  He recognised the dead man as a local and took a step forward, his hand dropping down to rest on his gun.

 

“I am Sheriff Dunne, and you’re under arrest for the shooting of Mitch...”  He trailed off, not knowing the dead man’s last name. You’re going to have to hand over your gun, Mister.”

 

Vin Tanner leaned back in his chair, his hand resting on the mare’s leg.  The kid had guts, but was as dumb as a mule if he thought he was going to take Chris in. This was going to be fun.   He flashed at look of amusement at Buck, and saw the big man getting ready to get in between them.  Buck was a born mother hen, and he was going to have his hands full. Larabee was already pissed off; it had been a bad couple of days and Vin acknowledged to himself that it had been his fault to start with, first he had done his disappearing act and ended up shot and on the verge of being hung, then they had had to travel to Four Corners in the company of another Sentinel, and finally some one had threatened Ezra, not good.  Vin reached out with his left hand, hidden under the table, his long tapered fingers settling on Chris’s thigh, using touch to help balance his friend and keep his volatile temper in check. A reminder to the gunman that he was not alone, that he had his pack around him.

 

“Give up your gun mister, and we’ll go to my office and talk this through.  Don’t make me have to make you.”

 

Chris got slowly to his feet, facing off against the young Sheriff; the kid was so far out of his league it was to be pitiable. The colour drained from JD’s face, and he felt a cold presence sweep over him.  He swallowed hard.

 

Jim Ellison came into the Saloon slowly, keeping his hands clear of his gun.

“Name’s Marshal Ellison,” he moved up to flank JD.  “That your work Larabee?”  He nodded towards the dead man even as he met the ice-green eyes that glared at him from under the black brim of Larabee’s hat.

 

“He drew first.” Chris sounded almost bored.

 

“And you finished it,” Jim put in, and suppressed a shudder at the smile that graced the gunman’s handsome face.

 

The kid sheriff now looked almost physically ill.  “Larabee as in Chris Larabee?”  JD looked at the man in front of him, taking in the all-black clothes.  Shit, it was Larabee. JD took a deep breath, “You still have to come with us,” JD said. It was then that he heard the click of a gun being cocked behind him; Jim turned and saw that Ezra had moved from his seat and was leaning against a post, his Remington in his hand.

 

Blair interrupted.  “Look, Sheriff, he” the young academic pointed at the body, “said that Mr Standish was cheating, it was getting ugly when Mr Larabee stepped in. He,” Blair pointed at the dead man again, “started to walk out of the Saloon and then turned really fast, drawing his gun, and Mr Larabee out drew him.  It was self-defence.”

 

Looking around JD could see that the other people in the saloon were nodding in agreement.

 

“I’ll still need to take a statement.”

 

“But later,” Jim put in firmly. “Sheriff, we need to talk now,” he paused “and Larabee, try to keep the body count down, at least until I get back.” The Sentinel all but manhandled JD out of the Saloon, but once outside, the young man pulled away and headed down the alleyway to the outhouse.  A few seconds later Jim could hear him throwing up. Finally, JD emerged looking shaky. “I just tried to outdraw Chris Larabee.”

 

“Yeah,” Jim agreed.

 

“Oh, god,” JD took some hurried breaths.

 

“Easy, Sheriff, just a misunderstanding, but we do need to talk.”

 

0-0-0-0-0

 

Nathan came through the door with his bag; he had been told there had been a shooting, and had come to help, but he slowed when he saw the corpse.   He turned as he heard the Undertaker arrive with the Bartender. It seemed his skills would not be needed, and instead headed over to the man in black’s table to thank him again properly. Buck went to the bar.  He leaned over and snagged another bottle of whiskey from the stash under the counter and then grabbed a few more glasses as he grinned broadly.  Then he headed back to the table, deftly stepping over the dead body as he said, “Fancy a drink, boys?  It’s on the house.  You joining us, Ezra?”

 

Nathan started to thank them for earlier, but was waved to a seat, and Buck pushed a shot glass in his direction.  Thanks where not needed, hanging was an ugly way to die and he hated ugly.

 

Ezra hesitated at the table, his eyes fixed on Nathan.  “I’ll join you later, Mr Wilmington, I have some things I have to do first.  Gentlemen.”  He touched the brim of his hat and left.

 

Buck shook his head.  “Never known Ez to turn down a free drink, you don’t think he’s sickening for something?” The big Gamma Sentinel said.

 

“Rebel Bastard.”

 

Chris Larabee’s glass came down with a thud on the table, as he heard the muttered words that Nathan said under his breath. “That man, Jackson, saved your life.  He was watching our backs at the cemetery, so keep your mouth shut when it comes to him.”

 

“Then I owe him.” Nathan answered, but the unease was still there for Nathan; the southerner’s accent brought back the nightmare of the slavery he had suffered before the Civil War and if the man was going to stay in Town he somehow had to find a way of controlling his feelings around him – or, failing that - keeping away from him.

 

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

 

Half way down the street, Jim swore under his breath as he saw Mary Travis heading towards him and Sheriff Dunne.

 

“Marshal Ellison,” she smiled at him, patting her hair to make sure it was in place.

 

“Mrs Travis.”

 

“I would like an interview with you, Marshal Ellison.  As the new lawman of Four Corners, I would like your views on how you’re going to combat the bad element.”

 

“I am sorry, Mrs Travis, you appear to be under the illusion that I am taking over the law here. I am just passing through, stopping a few days whilst the new law takes over,” Jim said smoothly.

 

“My father in law, Judge Orin Travis,” Mary made sure that Marshal Ellison was aware of her connection with the Judge, “he wrote to me, telling me that he was sending law to Four Corners, and-”

 

Jim shook his head, “The Judge has employed a number of regulators to keep the peace here.”

 

“Regulators?” Mary all but spat the word out, “Common gunman, my father in law would never stoop so low as to send them here.”

 

“Mrs Travis, the Judge has employed them, and as soon as they’re settled in, I will be leaving.  They will be able to give Sheriff Dunne all the support he will need.”

 

“That boy?”

 

“That  _b_ oy was willing to stand up to a lynch mob,” Jim put in.

 

But Mary just dismissed that with a wave of her hand.  “Marshal Ellison, I will have you know that I am going to contact the Judge.  The Council of Four Corners will not stand for these so called ‘regulators’. This town needs a proper lawman, and that, Sir, is you. Good day.” Gathering her skirts, she stepped down onto the street and headed to the telegraph office.

 

“That went well,” a voice drawled behind them, there was no mistaking the southern accent of Ezra Standish.

 

Turning, Jim and Blair saw the gambler standing against the side of the bathhouse.

 

“You following us, Standish?” Jim asked.

 

“Don’t flatter yourself Marshal.  Gentlemen.”  Standish turned on his heel and headed back to the Saloon.

 

0-0-0-0

 

Joe Murphy, bounty hunter, might have ridden out of Blue Creek, but it was Joseph Bedford, former Union Army officer and businessman that stepped off the stagecoach and headed into the best and only hotel in Four Corners.

 

Shaved, bathed, and wearing the best store made suit he could find, the bounty hunter looked the part of a wealthy, respectable businessman. Flashing his money discreetly to the owner, he got the best room in the hotel, one that overlooked the whole of the main street.  A cockroach couldn’t go down that street without him seeing it. Going back to his bags he lifted one up onto the bed. From it he took a black Kevlar vest; Worth had shown him how to put the vest on, and he had seen first hand the remarkable powers of it in stopping a bullet. Next, he slid a box out of the bag and flipping the catches up, looked down at the Remington Rifle, a real beauty.  He didn’t know where Worth got this rifle from, he hadn’t seen anything like it in his life. But the thing was accurate, and the scope that went with it, hell, he couldn’t miss with it. The sniper rifle was the last resort.  He wanted to take Larabee down face to face.   A nasty smile touched his lips; he was going to see that Tanner suffer, before his kicked his heels doing the gallows jig.

 

Putting the vest and the rifle back, he stored them at the bottom of the wardrobe and moved back to the window in time to see Marshal Ellison and the kid Sheriff come out of the saloon together, only to be stopped by a blond haired woman with a black apron and sleeve protectors.   Mary Travis.

 

Ellison and Dunne tipped their hats to her and would have kept walking, but Murphy saw that she had stopped them. Whatever Ellison said was short and sharp, and then he was heading for the jail with the younger man in tow as Mary Travis coloured.  Murphy guessed that if she didn’t have such good control on her temper, she would have been stamping her foot. The newspaper woman wasn’t use to being ignored, and people didn’t say no to her very often; her position as editor, owner of the only newspaper and her close family connection with Judge Travis meant she had standing, and was no stranger to using her father in law’s name as a way of getting what she wanted. Now all he had to do was make sure she heard a few stories that would get that prissy nature of hers all fired up.

 

Standing carefully at the window so as not to show himself, Murphy scratched his jaw thoughtfully.  Tanner, he could wait for the moment.  He had something special planned for the good-looking, scruffy tracker.  No, Ezra Standish would be his target. Worth had told him all about the connection between Tanner, Standish and Larabee. Who would have guessed it, Sentinels and Guide; he had come across their kind during the war, and it made his work easier. Destroy Standish and Tanner, and Larabee would be walking dead, needing only a bullet to finish him off.  Hell, the man would even welcome it. Now, all he had to do was get the ball rolling with Mary Travis.

 

0-0-0-0

 

Sheriff’s Office

“Chris Larabee is taking over as Sheriff?”  JD’s face showed his shock as he blurted the words out.

 

Jim shook his head, “You will still hold the badge, but Mr Larabee will lead the Regulators and that will include you as one of his men.  I am sorry JD, he might not have the badge but he will have the power. That comes straight from Judge Travis.”  The Sentinel paused, he could smell the distress coming off the younger man.  “JD, you have done nothing wrong, if there is anyone at fault it was Sheriff Carr.  You can still make a difference.”

 

“I tried to arrest Chris Larabee,” JD’s hand went through his unruly dark hair, “what the hell was I thinking?”

 

“Larabee will respect the fact that you where trying to do your job.”  Jim smiled.  “Look, kid, Chris has the temperament of a pissed off rattler at the best of times, you just got on the wrong side of him for all the right reasons. I can’t see that he will hold it against you.  The important thing is that you have a town to protect.”

 

“Aren’t you staying, Marshal?”

 

“Wish I could JD, but I am expected in Eagle Bend with Dr Sandburg very soon. You’ll be alright, we’ve been travelling with Chris from Blue Creek and he’s only threatened to shoot Dr Sandburg twice.  Hell, the man is mellowing.”

 

But JD’s face showed he didn’t believe that for a moment.

 

0-0-0-0-0

 

The Saloon

 

Blair sipped his beer and watched as the Saloon returned to normal; the voices were lower and more subdued because of the killing and the locals kept a safe distance of the table his was sat at.

 

“What are you doing with your wagon?”

 

The question came out of the blue and Blair found himself off balance.  “Sorry, Mr Larabee, I didn’t catch that.”

 

“Your wagon, are you going to be sleeping in it?” 

Blair found himself pinned by the icy green eyes of the gunfighter.

 

“Err, no, Jim has booked us a couple of rooms at the hotel and I’ll pay for it to be taken care of at the livery stable.”

 

“No need for that Sandburg; Vin don’t take to hotels and I sure as hell am not going to let him camp out of town.”  Not taking his eyes off Blair, Chris snarled, “Don’t even think of it Tanner, you’re using the Doctor’s wagon until you’re healed up; it’s that or I am hog tying you to my bed.”

 

“Hell, been there done that Larabee, and got the bite marks to prove it.” Vin said, taking a pull at his glass of whiskey.

 

Glancing at Buck he saw the bigger, older man shake his head and look up for guidance; he had obviously seen and heard it all before, as he said, “Don’t frighten the Doctor boys, don’t want him to get the wrong idea. You might not, but I have my reputation with the ladies to protect. And Lord, I do love those ladies. Drink up Doc, and let old Buck tell you about Sally the Snake from Birch City.”

 

Chris ignored Buck. “So, Vin has the wagon until you leave?”

 

“I, err, of course, I’ll have to get a few things out of it.” Blair was wondering how the hell he was going to tell Jim; the wagon had been artificially aged and distressed and would stand up to inspection, but he still didn’t like the idea of Vin staying in it.  For now, however, he could do nothing about that.

 

0-0-0-0-0

 

Evening

 

Blair let his boot drop onto the floor and massaged his toes.  “There was nothing I could do, I was eye to eye with Larabee and that man should get that glare of his registered as a lethal weapon. So, I said that Vin could use the wagon.”  He waved a hand as if to stop his Sentinel from protesting. “It’s okay, I got all of our things out.”

 

“All of them?”

 

Blair looked up at the looming Sentinel.  “Okay, I left the vests and the rifle because they were well hidden.  Hell, Jim, all he’s going to do is sleep in there, it’s not as if he’s got any reason to search it,” Blair grinned.  “Trust me, big guy.”

The look in his Sentinel’s eyes made the exhaustion he was feeling melt away.

 

What people didn’t understand was the need for the connection between Sentinel and Guide, Blair mused.  Even in the 21st Century some people saw any physical contact between a male Sentinel and Guide as sexual, when truly the need went much deeper than that.  A Sentinel used his Guide as his touchstone - he would centre his senses on him, his heart beat and scent was a soothing balm to a stressed Sentinel - helping him maintain his contact with the real world and stopping him tumbling into a black void of overloaded senses that would lead, ultimately, to death.

 

Blair reached out a hand and pressed his palm over the Sentinel’s heart.  With his other he took Jim’s hand and pressed it to his own, knowing that the Sentinel would feel and hear the heart beat.  Already Jim’s face had taken on a look of supreme contentment.

 

“Two heart, two bodies, one soul, Sentinel.”  He met the blue eyes that seemed to reach down into his very being, and then leaned in, allowing the strong arm to circle his waist and pull him closer.  “Yours for eternity,” the last words were said sentinel-soft, and then there was no reason for words, as Blair was claimed by his Sentinel.

 

Later, as Blair lay wrapped in the arms of his Sentinel, he thought back to the first time they had bonded, only a short time ago, and how it had changed his life.

 

_Dr Blair Sandburg was stood talking to Dr Betty Parker, one of a small band of anthropologists that worked for the Time Agency. Suddenly, he felt something run through him like a fire in his blood. Betty saw him shiver.  “You okay, Blair_?”

****

**_“Fine,” but as he shuddered again, Betty Parker smiled, “It’s the static electric discharged from the Wave, they use suppressors, but,” she shrugged, “you’ll get use to it.”_ **

****

**_Blair nodded his agreement, but knew that there was something more going on.  It was then that the door came off its hinges, and a man stalked into the room, his eyes sliding over Betty, dismissing her as nothing, then focused on him, and with a snarl, headed straight for him._ **

****

**_The young anthropologist reacted by instinct; he threw the file he was holding at the man, and made a run for the fire escape, at the same time yelling for Betty to run. The file was batted away and in one quick stride the man had caught the back of his jacket and he was hauled backward, only to be thrown against the nearest wall.  Blair’s feet beat against the wall as he struggled for breath, lifted off the floor in an example of pure, elemental strength._ **

****

**_The voice was barely human as it growled at him; “Oppppen yourrrrr eyesssss.”_ **

****

**_Blair found himself looking into cold blue eyes, and it was as if every piece of air had been forced from his lungs. For the first time, he was looking into the face of his attacker, seeing him clearly. The strong, handsome features, the pure elemental strength of the man holding him effortlessly; not just a man, but a Sentinel, and he was unbonded._ **

****

**_“Myyyyyyy Guidddddddddde.”_ **

****

**_“No,” Blair managed to swing a hand across the out-of- control Sentinel’s face with a loud crack. The Sentinel just shook his head to clear it and showed his teeth in a snarl, sliding the younger man up higher, a powerful thigh pushed up between Blair’s legs pinning him in place, the hard body trapping one of Blair’s arms against him.  Now, with his prize trapped, the Sentinel reached up and ripped Blair’s shirt open from throat to waist, then leaned in, scenting at his throat. Blair managed to swing again, harder, adrenaline fuelling his blow. With a snarl of pure rage, the grip on his throat increased; Blair fought, as darkness started to close in on him. Then, suddenly, the grip was released and he could pull in a deep lung full of air. His attacker stepped back and Blair flinched as he saw a gun appear in the man’s hand. But then he saw the look of total disgust and despair on the handsome face, as he took in Blair’s torn clothes._ **

**_“Oh my god, what have I done? I am so sorry, this has to end now.  I am...”  The man broke off as the gun came up, towards the Sentinel’s head._ **

****

**_“Please, no,” Blair reached out for him, “we can sort this out, please don’t, you didn’t hurt me, I want to help, please-”_ **

****

**_The Sentinel just shook his head, and the gun brushed his forehead._ **

****

**_“NO!”_ ** **** **_Blair screamed the word._ **

****

**_“I have to, I can’t-” The man’s voice was filled with such sadness._ **

****

**_“You don’t have to, I will help you.”  Blair closed the distance between them, he reached out for the gun. “I know what you need, what you want, Sentinel.”  Blair could feel a tingling sensation running across his skin; it was as if static electric was arching between them.  As a child, Blair had been tested to see if he was a guide.  He had barely registered a score.  Pain was exploding through his head as he closed his eyes, flinching as the Sentinel’s arm closed round his waist and he was pulled against a strong, muscular body. The gun slipped from the Sentinel’s hand onto the floor, as the now empty gun hand came up and cupped the back of Blair’s head, guiding it to rest under the Sentinel’s chin. The Sentinel was making a deep-throated rumbling noise and on a level that Blair didn’t understand, it felt reassuring._ **

****

**_“No, this can’t happen,” The Sentinel pushed Blair away, the younger man catching at his arm, only to have it pulled free with enough force to send him staggering back. “Don’t touch me.”  Then with a look of disgust that made the younger man cringe, “I don’t want your kind, I don’t need your kind,” the Sentinel’s voice got louder, confusion and uncertainty giving way to anger. “No guide will be my master.”_ **

****

**_The Sentinel pushed through the fire exit, and they were both gone by the time security had arrived, the alarms only just starting to sound through the building._ **

****

**_A hell of a way for a Guide and a Sentinel to meet for the first time._ **

**_But the connection had been made, and Jim had returned to him, first at a distance, then gradually getting closer, frightening away any other Sentinels that the Guide Union decided the newly on-line Guide Blair Sandburg should bond with.  Like a looming, stifling storm, Jim Ellison had stalked him, eyes burning into the young guide._ **

****

**_Coming out of the shower after a workout, Blair had found his shirt shredded, and a much larger one in its place. Blair has been puzzled until he remembered earlier a young Sentinel, catching hold of his arm.  This rival’s scent was not to be tolerated. Blair had looked up to see Jim Ellison reflected in the mirror; turning, he had thrown the shirt to the floor and pulled his own sweat soaked T-shirt back on in a clear act of defiance. The eyes of the Sentinel had met his, and Blair had felt a shiver going through his body, pooling in a red-hot heat at the pit of his stomach as the older man openly scented him. Angrily, Blair closed the distance between them until Sentinel faced Guide.  “I would go naked before I wear anything of yours, Sentinel.  I don’t belong to you.”_ **

****

**_“It can be arranged,” Jim drawled, his gaze flicking up and down the younger man, then, with a predatory smile that made Blair stumble back a few steps, Jim Ellison turned on his heel and left._ **

****

**_A young Sentinel came hurrying in, hearing the panicked heartbeat of the Guide. Jim’s arm had shot out, blocking his way, and one word was snarled in his face, as the eyes flashed with cobalt fire.   “Mine”._ **

****

**_After that, the Guide Union had declared that James Joseph Ellison, - now his lethal shadow had a name - was an Apex Sentinel, one of the most dangerous of their kind, a throwback to an older time. Until he was caught they had had wanted to put him in protective custody, but Blair had refused to live like that.  He no longer saw the older man, but he had heard that he was AWOL from the Agency. But Blair could feel him, like an itch he couldn’t scratch. Then suddenly, that feeling had vanished and Blair had mourned it, he lost weight, and became ill, it was as if something inside of him was dying. That was until the night he had arrived home and found Jim Ellison stood there, man enough at last to acknowledge what he needed and the Apex male in him pushing through to make him claim Blair as his own. In two strides, Blair had been caught up in a hug that had crushed him to the larger, more powerful body, strong hands moving over his own as the Sentinel had opened his senses and started to map him. Impatient, the Sentinel had torn his clothes from him violently, yet the touch of those same hands had been gentle and respectful, calming and gentling him, words no longer needed as the bond had taken them both in its hold. In that moment he knew that for all of his fury, all of his strength, the Apex would never harm him. For a Sentinel, the Guide was the centre of his own being, the Guide was to be protected, nurtured.  It humbled Blair that he knew without a doubt that his Sentinel would die for him. Jim Ellison slowly replaced the Apex, and his voice was soft and reassuring, which would have been alien for anyone who had met the hard-assed Time Agent.  It was strange to think him capable of such feelings. His hand had brushed across Blair’s chest, his fingertips brushing the prominent ribs, caused by the loss of weight Blair couldn’t afford. A silent promise made to get Blair fit and well, in order to take his place at his Sentinel’s side. In that moment, as he was taken to the bond by his Alpha, Blair had found his home, his salvation. Two bodies, two hearts, one Soul._ **

Blair brought his mind back to the present; he was going to have to find out how Vin, Chris and Ezra had come together to the bond, because he was sure that  _that_  was a story worth telling. 

 

 

0-0-0-0-0

 

Vin rolled his sleeping blanket out onto the floor of the wagon.  It might look old but it was well constructed and as he eased himself down, fully clothed, he pulled the blanket up around him, his mare’s leg near his hand.  Tilting his hat over his eyes, he settled down, identifying the sounds around him.  Satisfied, he yawned and allowed himself to drift towards sleep. It was then that he sat up; there was something wrong with the wagon. On the trip from Blue Creek to Four Corners, he had spent most of the time sparring with his friend and alpha so that he hadn’t paid a lot of attention to the wagon, but now he allowed his senses to roll over it.  What he was getting wasn’t making sense. The canvas looked old but serviceable, but there was a sharp smell that was harsh, not natural. Pushing out his senses, Vin could smell gun oil, nothing new there, but again there was a scent to it that wasn’t right. The scent was heavier to the front of the wagon; kneeling, he pulled his blankets to one side and running his hands over the boards, he halted reaching for his bowie knife he used it to prise up the boards.  He should have been looking at the packed earth of the street, but instead, found himself looking at a hidden compartment.  Reaching into it he pulled out two black vests, the black material stiff to his fingers.  Putting them to one side, he pulled out a rifle, the source of the gun oil. Tugging off the cover, he allowed a whistle of admiration; it was a rifle like nothing he had ever seen before. Reluctantly, he put it down and reached back inside the compartment, this time pulling out a black case.  It refused to open, and for a moment, he debated whether to force it.  But he simply replaced it, wrapping the rifle and one of the vests in his blanket, then he slipped out of the wagon and into the back of the hotel.

 

Chris knew that Vin was coming before he heard the soft knock on the door.

But whatever he was going to say was forgotten as he saw the rifle that Vin was holding.

 

0-0-0-0-0

 

Hotel

 

Later, mellowed from the bond, Blair sat nursing a glass of whiskey.  He knew his sentinel, and there was no way he was going to let him sleep away from his territory, which in this case was his bedroom, so although there was a nice room down the hallway, it would be fated to remain empty. “As I was saying Jim, Chris is putting together a pack, not a clan.”

 

“And the difference is?”

 

“Oh, a big difference.  If Larabee’s family had survived he would have created a clan around them; Buck would have take the Gamma role of helping to care for Adam Larabee, it would have been a loving and nurturing environment. Slowly it could have drawn in others.  But with their deaths and the emergence of the Predator Apex, the need to create a clan is still there, it just turned into something more lethal.  A pack is a hunting unit; they would actively go out to destroy a threat to the tribe. Now, there wouldn’t be any women in the group, or young children, perhaps a few juveniles. Now, did you notice how Buck kept trying to mother hen Vin on the trip?”

 

“Yeah, and nearly got his head handed to him.”

 

“That was pure Gamma behaviour in a pack, he looks after the young ones, teaches and protects them. Remember, you told me he called Vin a pup, well, that would fit in. Only problem is that Vin is not a typical young Sentinel. First off, he’s a Feral Apex and second, he’s been brought up by himself, and-”

 

“And is quite capable of taking care of himself,” Jim answered.

 

“Exactly, and a pack would have only one guide, a senior guide, one that would be able to look after himself in a fight.”

 

“Standish.”

 

“Yeah, the Larabee gang, for want of a better word, is a fully functioning Sentinel pack.”

 

“And Larabee, Blair?”

 

“The Alpha, the meanest son of a bitch of the lot; judge, jury and executioner.  Sort of fits Chris Larabee?”  Blair grinned.  “A pack, who would have believed it.”

 

“Well, keep your enthusiasm in check, all I am hearing is that we have a very dangerous group of men.”

 

“Jim, you haven’t heard all of it.  Now this makes sense, the pack would also include a holy man, a shaman.”

 

“Josiah.” Blair nodded. “Who else?” Jim asked.

 

“A medicine man, of course the two would usually, in days gone by, go hand in hand, but here it could mean Nathan Jackson.”

 

Jim scratched his jaw thoughtfully.  “So where would that place JD in this pack?”

 

“Another pup, one that needs the Gamma to teach it how to stay alive.  Buck will, I am sure, still look after Vin,” Blair shrugged, “but, to be honest, he’s looking at an equal with him.  Hell, from what you said about those men he killed?” Blair shuddered.  “Vin could give Buck pointers, but in JD, he’ll get someone that he can mother hen to his heart’s content.”

 

“Well, that’s six of the seven, we only have Josiah to recruit and then we have them all together.  So why do I get a bad feeling about this, Blair?”

 

0-0-0-0-0-0

 

The next morning, Joseph Murphy was in the Clarion Newspaper office.  He smiled warmly as he shook hands with Mary Travis.  “Mrs Travis, my name is Joseph Bedford. I am thinking of investing in Four Corners, perhaps you can answer some questions for me about the town. I was told you were the person to see.”

 

Mary preened under the complement, as she waved him to take a seat.

 

He was just about to take a seat when he paused, “My god, you actually allow him in town?”  Joe allowed his fake disgust to show.

 

“Who, Mr Bedford?” Mary said, as she joined him at the window.

 

Joe pointed to the man coming out of the saloon, the red coat making him stand out among the townspeople. “Ezra Standish, a conman and gambler, oh, the things I could tell you about that man. But I haven’t come here to talk about Mr Standish.”

 

Mary’s shocked face was all that he could have wanted.  “Please, Mr Bedford, tell me what you know.  That man is now a Regulator, the townspeople need to know what type of man he is.”

 

Joe settled into his seat. “Well, Mrs Travis, I am not a man to gossip about others.” He saw her nod her head in agreement, “I am sure you’re not, Mr Bedford, but this is for the town’s good.”

 

“Well, the people in Clear Ridge had the right idea, they ran Standish out of town.  Unfortunately not before he’d made a pauper of Mr Evans; he bankrupted the man, and if that was not enough, Evans killed himself because of it.  And you tell me he’s a Regulator?”

 

By the time he left an hour later, he had dug a grave for Standish’s reputation.

 

At the door, Joe Murphy paused, tugging his hat down and turning away as he caught a glimpse of the unmistakeable hide coat and slouched cavalry hat of Vin Tanner heading in his direction.

 

Vin came out of Potter’s store with JD and headed for Virgil Watson’s store. Chris had been adamant that they patrolled the town and surrounding countryside. JD’s job was to introduce them to the local traders and this morning it was Vin’s turn.

 

“You okay, Mr Tanner?”

 

“Told you the name’s Vin, kid,” the ex bounty hunter drawled. But he was looking down the street.  Vin frowned, his hand brushing the butt of the mare’s leg he carried. Something had raked across his senses, but he couldn’t see anything that set it off, just people going about their business. Vin forced himself to relax and nodded for JD to lead on.

 

It was gone noon, and Ezra, after checking in with their illustrious leader, was soaking at his leisure in a tub in the Bath House.  Tom Cutler had watched the Southerner enter the building, and with a grin, headed towards it. He had spoken to Joe that morning after arriving in town with a few of the boys. Tom would be the first to admit that he wasn’t any grand thinker, so if Joe wanted to play it his way, he was more than happy to do it. Just as long as he got a chance to do a little one-on-one with Tanner later on. Without thinking, he touched his broken nose; he owed Tanner for that, and he and the boys would be up to showing the young renegade how they treated his kind.

 

0-0-0-0-0

 

Ezra was enjoying a long soak in the bathhouse, the dust and the dirt of their journey finally being washed off. He closed his eyes, and savoured the warm water, a click of a heel and his hand came out of the water and grabbed for his gun. Only to have his head pushed under the soapy water.  His hands clawed up to break the hold, and then, through the distorted water he saw a grinning face. His feet kicked out, and then the pressure was gone, and Ezra surfaced.  “Mr Wilmington.”  He yelled the name.

 

“Sorry Ez, couldn’t resist it.”

 

“No more than I can.” Ezra scooped up the small derringer and he fired. The bullet went through the sagging crutch of Buck’s Union suit; making the ladies man howl with rage as he clutched himself.

 

“You got a mean streak there, Ez,” Buck snarled as he checked himself. “You could have hit Little Buck.”

 

“Only you, Mr Wilmington.  Remember, I only hit what I aim at, no matter how small  **Little Buck** ,” the gambler smirked, “is.” Then, he closed his eyes again and sank down into the warm soapy water, to enjoy the rest of his soak.

Even as in the background he could hear the disgruntled ladies man muttering on about all the ladies admiration for the not so little, Little Buck.

 

Tom backed out of the bathhouse; that particular idea would have to wait until later. But hearing the Southern voice, he got another idea.  As he left he started to sing softly to himself.

 

Old John Brown’s body lies moldering in the grave,

While weep the sons of bondage whom he ventured all to save;

But tho he lost his life while struggling for the slave,


	3. Part Three

Part Three.

 

Blair took a seat on the sidewalk in front of the Potter’s General Store and watched the gathering.  By late afternoon, the news about the Regulators had circulated around the town and the “good” citizens had begun to arrive at the office of the Clarion.  He could already hear the raised voices as they expressed their dislike for the fact that common hired guns had been recruited to protect their town. Mary Travis could be heard reassuring them that she had contacted her father in law, and that Marshal Ellison would be taking over.

 

How wrong one woman could be, Blair mused. From his vantage point he watched JD and Vin finish their patrol and head back towards the jail. He had seen Ezra disappear into the bathhouse followed by Buck and Jim and Chris had arrived at the jail around the same time.

 

It was then that Blair saw another man moving towards the bathhouse.  The young academic frowned; he knew that face, even if it was marred by heavy bruising.  Slowly, he got to his feet and began to follow the man. Blair pulled back as the man came back out almost immediately. It was only as he stepped out from under the porch and his face was caught by the sunlight that Blair recognised him as one of the bounty hunters from Blue Creek. It was the one that had dragged Vin off his horse, and got a knee in the face for his troubles.

 

Damn, he was going to have to tell Jim straight away, there was no way they could risk the man making a move on Vin or, even worse, making his knowledge public. The news that one of the Regulators was a wanted man would blow their plans to hell and back.

 

0-0-0-0-0

 

Jail

 

JD was standing up, pointing at Vin and waving a poster when Blair came in.

 

“For God’s sake, Marshal, he’s a wanted killer!  I should arrest him, not work with him; I swore to uphold the law, I-”

 

“Can’t do that if you’re dead.” Chris put in levelly, as he lit one of his cheroots.

 

Jim looked up to the heavens for guidance; Larabee had become almost human that morning, hell he had even seen the man smile at something Vin had said, then the kid had to find the poster.  The gunman would protect what he saw as his pack and especially his younger soul mate.

 

“I am the Sheriff here,” JD snapped back. It was like seeing a kitten standing up to a mountain lion, and the outcome was going to be just as one sided.  But before JD could become a bloody smear on the floor, Jim’s fist came down hard on the table.  “Everyone shut the hell up; JD, take a seat, you’re not arresting Vin.”  He dug out the paper and handed it to the young Sheriff.  “The signature belongs to Judge Orin Travis.”

 

JD read through the paper, and then looked back at Vin.  “You’re innocent.”

 

There was a question in that simple statement. “I never killed Jess Kincaid, a man called Eli Joe framed me for that, to stop me tracking him down. The judge is going to help me, if I work for him.”

 

JD handed the paper back to Jim, then went over to Vin, and put his hand out.  They shook, then the young Sheriff threw the poster into the pot belly stove, watching for a moment as the flames consumed it.  As he turned back, JD saw the small nod he got from Larabee and allowed himself a smile as he saw that gesture of approval.

 

“Well, what are the good townspeople up to, Darwin?”

 

Blair smiled at one of the many nicknames his Sentinel had for him, then he became serious. “Mary Travis is holding a meeting with the Town Council about law and order, and,” Blair hesitated, and then shrugged.  Now that JD knew the truth he might as well come out and say it. “One of the bounty hunters from Blue Creek is here, so I would watch yourself, Vin.”

 

“Murphy.” Vin’s blue eyes became hard.

 

“The other guy.”

 

Vin Tanner started towards the door.

 

“Vin,” Chris put in sharply, his hand coming up to block his friend from leaving.

 

“You know what they did to me,” Vin spat.

 

Chris nodded; in the bond there was no secrets, and both he and Ezra had lived through the horror along with the young tracker when they had joined together in the bond.  “They will pay.”  The hatred in those three words made it not a promise but a vow. 

 

Vin accepted the word of his Alpha, that when the time came the pack would hunt.

 

“Where did you see him, Sandburg?” Jim asked.

 

“He went into the bathhouse, but he didn’t stay long, he came out almost straight away and he appeared to be in a hurry. 

“Did you see him leave town?” Chris asked.

 

 

“No, but why-” Blair kicked himself mentally.  He should have realised that the man had yet to be accounted for.

 

“Then he’s still here until we know different, and I want to know why.  You agree, Ellison?” Chris looked towards Jim.

 

“Yeah, after all they collected on Vin at Blue Creek, and the Judge isn’t going to pay out for him twice, so it has to be personal.” Jim watched the interaction between the two friends, and then he remembered the sour scent on the younger man, and in that instant he knew. “When the time comes Vin, I’ll help you bury that filth.” It was more than the promise of a lawman; it was the promise of a Sentinel to another of his kind.

 

0-0-0-0-0

 

Late Evening

 

Josiah Sanchez had returned back to Four Corners and had gone for a drink.  He was the nearest thing the town had to a preacher. As a man of god he was strictly Old Testament; usually quite even tempered, but get him drunk and his own personal demons came out and he could tear the Saloon apart.

His gaze at the moment was fixed on a young man in a red coat, playing low stakes poker.  There was no mistaking that he was a professional gambler. Josiah’s gaze slid past him to a group of men at a far corner table. A couple of the men he recognised as cowhands from Guy Royal’s ranch; the others where new, but the one thing they had in common was that they were all drunk.

 

Josiah was beginning to get an uneasy feeling about the way they were watching the gambler, and it had nothing to do with the small poker game he was playing with the twin brothers that owned the Livery Stable, Tiny and Yosemite Howard.  One of the cowhands got up and walked over to the piano; the instrument was heavily scarred by cigarette burns and the odd bullet hole, but it still worked. Sitting down with a grin at the gambler, he began to hammer out an old marching song.

Bring the good old bugle, boys, we'll sing another song  
Sing it with a spirit that will start the world along  
Sing it as we used to sing it, 50,000 strong  
While we were marching through Georgia.

Hurrah! Hurrah! we bring the jubilee!   
Hurrah! Hurrah! the flag that makes you free!  
So we sang the chorus from Atlanta to the sea  
While we were marching through Georgia.

 

Josiah saw the tension in the young man’s body as the singer was now joined by the other men, as they banged their glasses on the table in time with the tune.

 

Yes and there were Union men who wept with joyful tears,  
When they saw the honored flag they had not seen for years;  
Hardly could they be restrained from breaking forth in cheers,  
While we were marching through Georgia.

Hurrah! Hurrah! we bring the jubilee!   
Hurrah! Hurrah! the flag that makes you free!  
So we sang the chorus from Atlanta to the sea  
While we were marching through Georgia.

"Sherman's dashing Yankee boys will never make the coast!"  
So the saucy rebels said and 'twas a handsome boast  
Had they not forgot, alas! to reckon with the Host  
While we were marching through Georgia.

 

The gambler drained his drink, made his apologies to the brothers, raked in his money and then collected his cards.  He got to his feet, yet as he left found his way blocked. 

 

“You know the words, Johnny Reb, sing them.” Tom Cutler was right in Ezra’s face, as he sang the words of the chorus, in his loud, off-key voice.

 

Hurrah! Hurrah! we bring the jubilee!   
Hurrah! Hurrah! the flag that makes you free!  
So we sang the chorus from Atlanta to the sea  
While we were marching through Georgia.

 

“What’s the matter, don’t you like the song, Johnny Reb?”

 

Cutler pushed Ezra back against his men. “Sing, Reb, sing.”

 

So we made a thoroughfare for freedom and her train,  
Sixty miles of latitude, three hundred to the main;  
Treason fled before us, for resistance was in vain  
While we were marching through Georgia.

 

Ezra swung round fast before they got a chance to hold him and he lashed out, planting his fist into Cutler’s face, putting the man down hard. There was no way that Ezra was going to win, but he got in a couple of hard knocks before a hefty blow knocked him across one of the poker tables and he crashed down onto the floor.

 

As one of the men headed straight for the gambler even as he tried to pull himself up, Josiah stuck out a leg and the would-be attacker went sprawling onto the floor.

Whatever the man was going to say was forgotten when, from his position on his back, a big foot planted in the middle of his chest.  He found himself looking up as the Preacher casually cleaned his nails with a Bowie knife, looking down at him.  It was at the same time as he and the rest of the room heard the very distinct sound of a Winchester being cocked. Stood just inside the door was Vin Tanner. The look in those cold, blue eyes sobered the men up. Vin’s finger tightened on the trigger as he recognised Tom Cutler, even as Cutler escaped through the back of the saloon. Every fiber of his body was telling Vin to run, to track him down and kill him. But his first loyalty was to his guide. Ezra was getting unsteadily to his feet. Slowly he turned. “Thank you, Sir.”

 

“Josiah Sanchez.” 

 

“Ezra Standish.”  The southerner put his hand out and it was engulfed in the large hand of the preacher.

 

“Let me help you with these music lovers, Brother Ezra,” the big man’s voice rumbled pleasantly. He had heard about the Regulators and was intrigued by them. His gaze moved from the tracker to the gambler and a knowing smile touched his lips; he had lived with the Indians and had seen Guardians and Shamans during his time with them. The gambler might not be a Shaman, but he had the touch of a protector, and the tracker?  A Guardian if he had ever seen one. He reached out and hauled Standish’s would-be attacker to his feet and frog marched him behind the others with a tight grip on the man’s jacket.

 

“Ez?”

 

“Fine, Mr Tanner, there is no need for our-” Ezra didn’t get chance to finish what he was going to say when he saw Buck appear throught the front door of the boarding house, in just his union suit and gunbelt, just as Chris  was already halfway across the street, heading for the saloon. 

 

“Oh, hell and damnations,” Ez breathed.

 

“EZ?” Chris’s voice was icy, but the young gambler knew that it was concern that fueled the anger. The older Sentinel’s eyes were stripping him as the senses wrapped around him, hunting for injuries.

 

“I am alright, Mr Larabee.”

 

“Later, Ezra.”  The words sent a shiver down the gambler’s back.

 

Looking towards Vin, Ezra knew that he had no escape there; he could see the same concern in the blue eyes of the younger Sentinel and he knew what that meant. It was going to be one hell of a night. Then the green eyes lit with pure devilment, and the cocky smile was back on the face of Ezra Standish.

 

Josiah had seen the exchange and the breath had caught in his throat; this was more than he could ever have expected.  The town was truly blessed to have its security placed in the hands of two sentienls and a guide. Those drunk cowboys had no idea how lucky they had been; if Standish had been hurt, then he was sure that they would not have walked out of the saloon in one piece.

 

Tiny and Yosemite Hughes had watched the fight in the saloon, but before they could get to their feet, Josiah had stepped in and taken charge.

 

Yosemite suddenly caught his brother’s arm and tugged him back, his eyes resting on Vin Tanner.  This was the first time that they had seen the tracker; when he had come to the Livery, Old Larry had taken care of his horse. Seeing the Texan was focused on what was going on, they quickly left the Saloon. Once outside, Tiny, the youngest of the twins by some three minutes, blurted out:

“Do you think he remembered us?”

“We’re still alive, Tiny, so I take it he didn’t.”

“But for how long, you know what he’s like, and he’s one of those damn regulators so it’s not like he’s going to be leaving town any time soon.”

“We’re just going to have to to make sure he does.”

“Can’t we just make our peace with him?”

Yosemite’s laugh was hard and bitter.  “Tanner? You have got to be joking.”

“I, err, thought we could make our peace with him.” When he saw the look on his brother’s face, Tiny’s anger grew.  “We didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Yeah, you’re half right, we didn’t nothing until it was too late.”

Together they walked towards their homes, each lost in the past.

Only to be suddenly pulled back to the present by a voice from behind them.

“I think, gentlemen, that we should talk.” Murphy stepped out of the dark.

 

The Jail

Blair had to muffle a laugh as he watched the gambler turn towards Jim, asking if he could check him over because of the fight.  The logic behind the request was that the Jim had some medical knowledge, and had treated Vin.

Blair had seen the two men lock eyes, and Blair had seen the green eyes of the gambler seem to ignite with a fire. Blair swore suddenly’ and caught Jim’s hand even as it was raised. Whatever he was about to say was interrupted by the sound of a Colt being cocked, and then a Winchester. Vin and Chris where bristling; Blair could feel an energy igniting in the jail making the hair on the back of his neck rise. The need to bond was vibrating through the air, and whereas Blair has been taught to defuse it, the Southerner had fanned the flames of it, using Jim to increase it.  Blair’s own anger built at that. He would have words with his fellow guide.  Ezra had edged round the side of the desk and was weighing up his options; the front door of the jail was closest, but more public, and for what was going to happen he didn’t want an audience. Ezra went for the back door, Blair stuck a foot out.  Payback time.  The gambler went flying straight into Josiah; the preacher caught him, and gave him a push back the way he had come, straight into the arms of his sentinels.  Ezra was caught and he frog marched out of the Jail.

 

“Now, Mr Larabee, Mr Tanner, there is no need to take this course of action.  I assure you that I would not have let Marshal Ellison touch me. It was done in jest.”

 

“Shut up, Ezra.”  Chris and Vin spoke together, two Sentinels, one mind, one need, and one guide.

 

Ezra seemed to stumble, throwing Chris off balance, and the gambler pulled free and took to his heels into the darkness.

 

Chris shook his head, and he slapped Vin on the shoulder, “go hunt brother.”

The feral Vin Tanner took off at a run.

 

“Aren’t you going after him?” Blair asked, surprised to see that although Larabee’s signature Sentinel Karma was vibrating with energy, the man himself was cool and collected as he lit one of his cheroots he answered Blair.

 “No, I’ll catch up with them later, let Vin work the edge off him first.”  He glanced across, and with his Sentinel eyesight saw what the darkness was masking to Blair. The young tracker heaved himself up onto the roof of the Potters’ store, and began moving swiftly across the roof top, jumping onto the next roof, hunting like the wild, feral creature he was, and that was so barely hidden in his every day form.

 

Chris’s head snapped round as he heard the low, deep rumble of Josiah Sanchez’s laugh; “Brother Larabee, I believe that Four Corners has just gotten really interesting.”

 

0-0-0-0-0

 

Ezra slowed down.  A gentleman didn’t run, but he did make exceptions to that rule; when his two Sentinels were chasing him, no way were they going to hunt him down like prey.   Looking over his shoulder, he didn’t see anyone chasing him, but even so he cut down the alleyway. With a sigh he slowed to a walk and then gave his cuffs a tug to bring them back into place. It was then that he heard the thud of something landing on the roof above him.  Before he could react, a pair of booted feet swung into view and then Vin dropped down in front of him. Ezra backed off.  “Mr Tanner, I don’t know what you have in mind, err  **Mr Larabee,** ” the gambler looked round, then pitched his voice louder, “ **Mr Larabee, this is beyond a joke.** ” A deep-throated growl vibrated from the feral sentinel as he stalked forward. “ **Mr Larabee?** ” Ezra was calling out for his Alpha, his voice beginning to have a desperate edge to it.

 

At the jail, Jim heard the cry and looked across at Chris Larabee. “Vin won’t hurt him, Ellison,” the gunman drawled, but his hand tightened on the cup of coffee he was holding, “just get rid of the itch that’s riding him.” Then, slowly, he drained the coffee, and waved the cup at Blair for a refill.

 

Mary Travis looked out of her bedroom window on to the alleyway, and then pulled back.  The light from the night fire burning on the street threw a little light into the alleyway, and she saw a man thrust someone against the wall, leaning into them. Disgusted that he was taking a whore near her house, she was about to turn away, when the whore pushed away and was dragged into the street, the light painting them for a moment.  The breath caught in her throat; that renegade, Tanner, and Standish.  At the same time, she caught their voices. “Not the livery, Mr Tanner.”

 

“What’s wrong with it, Ez, warm straw and the horses won’t mind the company.”

“But I do, let go.” Standish twisted in the tracker’s grip, only to be pushed back hard against the side of the building, resulting in a gasp of breath as it was jarred from the gambler.  He stopped struggling, and lifted one hand.  The tracker flinched back, but the gambler reached out and stroked. Mary spluttered he stroked that filthy tracker’s face. “My room, soft bed.”

 

“Too late for that, have you now,” and as Tanner began to drag him away, the last words she heard were the gambler complaining,  “last time I was picking splinters out of my ass for a week,” then a laugh that made the hair on the back of her neck stand up. 

 

Quickly she pulled her dress on and then with a quick look in on Billy, stepped out of her house.  She lived along from the newspaper office, with only an empty house between her and the livery.  She put her head round the corner of the door to the livery and saw the black hat of the gambler being thrown over the front of one of the stalls, landing in the straw near her feet. Disgusted, she turned on her heel and headed back to her home.  She didn’t have to see more.

 

Vin looked up, twisting towards the door, only to be caught and pulled down.  Ezra batted away the horse’s inquisitive nose as it nuzzled at his shoulder.

He had got splinters in his ass last time the feral went for him, he sure as hell wasn’t going to let that snapping turtle of a horse take a lump out of him this time. 

 

Vin’s eyes were burning with a blue flame that flickered, hot and wild.  His need was growing, and he was holding onto his control only by his fingertips. He had tracked and caught his guide, and looked ready to claim what was rightfully his. “You know, Mr Tanner, Mr Larabee would not be happy if you started without him,” Ezra’s eyes widened as the bowie knife appeared in Vin’s hand, a mischievous grin on the feral's face as he saw the look of shock and disbelief on Ezra’s. “You wouldn’t dare, Mr Tanner.”

 

“Want to bet on that, Ez? Only caught you with a knife that once, wouldn’t have done that if you’d kept still.” His Texan accent was heavier than normal, a clear indicator to the southerner of his younger Sentinel’s state of mind.

 

“Once was enough, Mr Tanner, with that pig sticker that you carry.”

 

“You mean this little tooth pick, Ez?” Vin leaned further over him, the knife only inches from Ezra’s face, then it dropped lower.  The razor-sharp tip was hooked under the button of the fancy shirt he was wearing. 

 

“Don’t even think of it, Mr Tanner, I have shot people for less.  This coat came all the way from San Francisco, and the shirt from Chicago.” Backing up another step, his back collided with the wall of the stall.

 

The grin on Vin’s face changed and now echoed the one he had worn earlier in the jail when the Ezra had started the game.  Now the feral was going to end it.

 

Back at the jail, Jim and Chris exchanged a look, a smile twisting the gunman’s lips as he finished his last cup of coffee and got slowly to his feet.

He had a guide to bond with.

 

 

0-0-0-0

 

 

The next morning, Blair found Buck wolfing down a breakfast that made the healthy-eating guide’s arteries ache; give him a bowl muesli any day.

 

“What’s on your mind, Doc?”

 

“Two sentinels, one guide, unusual to say the least, Buck.”

 

“Well Doc, not usual, but it works for them,” he waved a piece of biscuit, “why don’t you tell old Buck what you really want to know.”

 

“What was it like when Chris and Vin first got together?  I’ve heard the story, but an Alpha and a Wild Sentinel together, the fur must have flown.”

 

“You could say that, but Chris don’t give up easily, and he can out do Junior on pure pig-headed stubbornness any day of the week,” he paused thoughtfully.  “Well, it can be close run.” For a moment, Buck remembered back to the early days, then he realised that Blair was waiting for him. “Vin was wild like an untamed mustang.” Buck grinned.  “Hell, he’s not much different now, but he sensed that Chris was his Alpha.  But Junior is too bull headed to accept it, been running wild and alone for too long. Chris had to take him down hard the first time, had to protect the pup from himself. Man oh man, that boy can cuss in English, Spanish and a couple of the Indian languages, when he has a mind, not that you would know it, boy’s not exactly a chatterbox, that’s for sure.”

 

“Take him down?”

 

“Yeah, you know, rope him up to a tree.”

 

Blair leaned forward.  “How did he take it?”

 

“Doc, he threaten to gut me and Chris, but old Chris he just laughed, and cuffed him across the head, and went back to sitting by the fire. Well, by evening Vin was getting good case of cold balls.” He looked at Blair’s expression.  “Didn’t I tell you Chris stripped him off?  Well, he did, and Vin was as cold as ice, but still wouldn’t give in. He’s as stubborn as a mule. We were both keeping an eye on him, had to make him accept Chris as his Alpha. I saw enough of what can happen if these wild pups don’t accept an Alpha during the war, didn’t want it happening to Vin.”

 

“He gave in.”

 

“Hell no, we ended up having to untie him and brought him to the fire.” Buck rubbed his jaw as he remembered the way Vin had fought tooth and nail until Chris had him face down, a knee in his back, one hand in that long hair, pulling him back so that his neck was arched back, forcing him to submit to him. “Well, let’s say that Chris marked him good and proper.” Buck shook his head.  “I can still hear that scream, never thought a human could sound like that.  After that Vin was skittish with us for a while, I was worried he was going to run.  But Chris, he knew better, gave Vin his head, and he came back, knew who his Alpha was.  He still kicks his heels up, makes Chris work for it.  Vin will never be one to roll on his belly like your tame Sentinels. But it puts fire in Chris and that’s a good thing. And old Buck here keeps the peace. That what you wanted to hear, Doc?”

 

“Curious, that’s all.  I am looking into Sentinel behaviour, seeing how I can help Jim. People don’t understand the needs of Sentinels and what they don’t know, they fear.”

 

 

0-0-0-0

 

It was noon before Ezra Standish appeared.  He paused for a moment, looking round.  He could feel his sentinels’ eyes on him.  Chris was sat in front of the jail, and Vin was leant against the post next to him, a mug of coffee in his hand and an infuriatingly smug look on his face.  The young gambler heard the tune being whistled, Marching through Georgia, as he walked, then John Brown’s Body. The cowboys laughed, wanting to get him to react, but he refused to give them the satisfaction. A large man mountain came out of the Potters’ store dressed in filthy buckskin and collided with Ezra, sending the smaller man flying into the hitching post. “You should look where you’re going, Reb,” and he stalked off, whistling the Battle Hymn of the Republic. A snarled comment from Ezra made the man mountain turn, “any time you want your ass kicking, Reb, and you can try.”

 

Ezra reined himself back.  “A gentleman doesn’t brawl in public.” His eyes flashed, even as his poker face slid into place, as he added, “But then, a Yankee pig like you wouldn’t know that, would you.”

 

The man mountain, Big Bill Connor, turned back fast onto Ezra, looming over him. Then suddenly, he grinned broadly, showing his uneven teeth.   “You’re all right, Reb, buy you a drink.” Then, he leaned right into Ezra and took a deep breath, and the grin got even broader. Even as the southerner spluttered indignantly.  Then, in the same low tone, Big Bill added, “You joining us, Vin, this pretty little thing belongs to you.”

 

Vin’s hand slackened on Chris’ shoulder, and released it from where he had clamped it to keep the man in black in his seat. 

 

The tracker crossed the street, looking the other Buffalo hunter up and down. Big Bill turned to face him, “Vin, you horse stealing son of a bitch.”

“At least I don’t fuck them, Bill.”

The big man closed the distance between them in two big strides and caught the smaller tracker up into a large bear hug, swinging him up and off his feet before putting him back down. “Only when it’s a cold hard winter boy, and there’s nothing warmer and softer.” He added, “Just taking the Reb for a drink, you coming?”

 

“Can always use a drink, and the Reb’s name is Ezra and he’s ours.”

 

“Ours?” Bill said.

 

Vin just jerked a thumb over his shoulder back at the black dressed figure now stood against the post of the jail porch, his hand resting on the butt of his gun.

 

“Shit Vin, you never do things by half, do you boy?” Then the penny dropped.  The black clothing, the silver and black gun belt... “That’s-”

 

“Chris Larabee, my Alpha.”

 

Big Bill whooped and hit Vin on the back, nearly sending the younger man flying. “A mean son of a bitch, but he’s good for you by the look of it.” The Buffalo hunter threw an arm round each of the younger men and steered them to the saloon.  “He going to join us?”

 

“No.”

 

Big Bill gave a relieved sigh, “Know I’m going to sup with devil when I am dead, just don’t want to do it while I am still alive.”

 

0-0-0-0-0

 

 

Later, from the window in their hotel room, Jim watched the street.  He didn’t turn around as Blair entered. “Found out what you wanted, Chief?”

 

“You’re right, Buck’s the best one to talk to, gave me a good insight into their first bonding.”

 

“Well, we have more important things going on, come over here.” Jim stood to one side and pulled Blair so that he could see what was going on.

 

“Ezra’s been getting it all day, someone is trying to push him. Fuck.”

 

Jim took to his heels, slamming out of the room, and taking the steps two at a time. When he got to the reception counter, the Clarion broadsheet was already there. He grabbed one and flipped the clerk a coin.  The front page read:

 

**EZRA STANDISH,**

**CONMAN AND**

**CARDSHARP**

Reading through quickly, Jim read about the incident at Clear Ridge, how Ezra has been caught cheating and the decent citizens had tarred and feathered him and run him out of town. The disgrace to the town and the disgust of the good people when they heard what one of their new regulators was.

The venom increased with each paragraph. Jim shook his head; Mary Travis had gone to work with a hatchet on the young gambler’s reputation.

 

Through the front door of the hotel he saw a white-faced Chris Larabee clutching the paper in his hand, striding towards the Clarion Office, the townspeople scattering in front of him. He almost jerked the door off its hinges, and then the glass rattled as it was slammed shut behind him. When he appeared again a few minutes later, he paused and looked back into the office, growling, “lady, I am the bad element”, and then Chris was gone, heading back towards the saloon.

 


	4. Part Four

Part Four.

 

Buck watched from across the street.  He saw both the young pups shake off the big man’s arms from their shoulders and head into the saloon.  For a moment Buck met the man-mountain’s eyes, and he knew in that split second what he was looking at. It was another of their kind, a Gamma, but there was something dark about him that put a shiver up his spine, and brought the protective instinct out in him.

Glancing across, he saw Chris watching them; the aggression was coming off his friend and Alpha in waves, and all it would need would be a spark to explode that anger into violence.

 

It was only minutes after Chris went into the jail that JD came flying out, heading straight for Buck, and was babbling.

 

“JD, JD, calm down kid, what’s wrong?”

 

“Mr Larabee,” JD said the name and then looked round as if he was expecting to see the man himself appearing behind him, “threatened to shoot me.  Hell, to blow my brains out.”

 

Buck exhaled slowly. “He won’t, he’s just pissed off at the moment.  You know that pile of wanted poster you’ve got?  Go into the saloon, there’s a guy with Ez and Vin. Take a real good look at him, and then go through them.”

 

“You think he’s wanted?”

 

“I wouldn’t be surprised JD; let me know what you find out.” When JD hesitated, Buck shooed him away.  “If Chris gets antsy, just remember one thing.”

 

“And that is?” JD asked.

 

“Duck.”

 

0-0-0-0-0

 

An hour later, Buck finished his patrol and went into the Saloon.  The man mountain was still with Vin and Ez, but Buck’s attention was fixed on Vin.  He could sense the distress in the younger man; his expression was normal but his scent was soured. He could feel the tension coming off Ez; the piano was hammering away at John Brown’s Body, before swinging into Marching through Georgia. Ez looked up, meeting Vin’s gaze; for a heartbeat green eyes locked on blue, and the gambler slowly exhaled. “I simply can not abide bad piano playing, if you would excuse me, gentlemen.”  He got up.  “Vin, Mr Connor,” and then he walked out, giving Buck his two fingers to the brim of his hat salute, then pausing at the bat wing doors of the saloon to pull the cuffs of his black coat in place as he stepped out. Buck collected his beer and went over. Vin pushed a chair out for him and Buck sank into it, his eyes sweeping over the younger man, then to the man mountain.

 

“Buck, Big Bill Connors, he’s an old friend.” 

 

Buck shook hands, but both men pulled away.  It was like mainlining lightening.  “Gamma.” Big Bill’s voice was a deep rumble; his nostrils flared and then he settled back with a contented, knowing smile.  The newcomer Buck’s scent was not on Vin. The tracker carried the gambler’s scent heavily imprinted on him, so it appeared that Vin claimed the guide for himself.  The Alpha must take his claim separately, and the Gamma must pick over the leftovers. He had been worried that they were a pack, but it looked like all they had was a loose collection of Sentinels travelling together.  It would make it that easier to cut Vin and his pet out of the herd.

 

The Clarion

Mary poured another cup of tea for Mr Bedford, as he smoothed the newspaper onto the table. “I see you managed to confirm everything I told you about Mr Standish.”

 

“The Sheriff was very helpful.”

 

“How did he take it?” Murphy wanted to know how rattled the gambler was.

 

“I haven’t seen him, but Mr Larabee was very unpleasant about the whole article.  He has to understand that if, and I only say if, my father in law continues to employ him, that he has to get rid of the undesirables; it’s bad enough that Standish is a conman and gambler, but Tanner,” Mary blushed, “that creature, well, I happen to know is having an unnatural relationship with Standish.” She fanned her hand in front of her face. “I caught them in the livery stables, thank god they didn’t see me.  I am sure that Judge Travis and Mr Larabee are unaware of their true nature.” 

 

Murphy hid his smile behind a look of concern. “Have you told anyone else about this?”

 

“That is the problem; I think the whole town should know of their perverse nature, but to put it in the Clarion would be unwise.  It is just my word against theirs, I would need more proof.  As it is, I have sent a copy of my paper on Standish to the Judge.”

 

“I know what you mean, the name of the town would be besmirched by their actions.  I think that we need to take a lesson from what happened with Standish before, a warning that we will not accept their behaviour.”

 

“Could you do that, Mr Bedford? I know that town would be grateful.” She dropped her voice slightly. “I would be grateful; my husband and I helped build this town, we must safeguard it, at all costs.”

 

“At all costs Mrs Travis, or may I be as bold as to call you Mary.”

She blushed at his forwardness.  “More tea?”

 

0-0-0-0-0

 

Chris and Vin had gone out on an outer-patrol ring around the surrounding country, and Ezra, much to his disgust, was patrolling the town, even as the sun began to set. A noise brought Ezra round the side of the Potter’s store, his hand resting on his gun.  When he was hit, it sent him flying forward, straight into the corner of the building. With a cry of pain, he felt his shoulder dislocate, his legs kicked out from under him.  Before he had a chance to roll clear, a large bucket was tipped over him, then white feathers rained down.

Blinded by the black contents of the bucket, Ezra could not do anything to avoid the kicks that followed to his back and stomach.

 

 

Mrs Potter, empty washing basket in hand, came out and saw the attack.  She dropped the basket and grabbed her broom, swinging out at the men who took to their heels. Kneeling quickly, she caught the blinded gambler’s arm. “Mr Standish, they’re gone,” then over her shoulder she yelled, “Julian, go and get Mr Jackson.” When her son hesitated, she added, “Now.”

 

She could feel him shaking under her hand; the way his arm was hanging she knew he had dislocated it, but his breath was coming so fast he was having trouble breathing. Ignoring the black paint, she leaned over him.  “Mr Standish, breath slowly, you’re alright, you’re alright.”  She rubbed his back, only for him to suddenly grab her.  She kept her grip, knowing that there was no threat from this young man. “Keep your eyes closed until we can get this stuff off you.”

 

“It’s alright Mrs Potter, I’ll take him.” She looked up to see Buck Wilmington.  The usually jovial gunman wore a deadly air around him, one of barely suppressed anger, made all the more frightening by his usually very open and fun loving nature.  Mrs Potter said, “Mr Jackson is on his way.” She tightened her grip on the gambler as she used her apron to try and wipe the paint off his face, clearing it from his eyes. When she looked up at Buck, she said, “what’s wrong with him?” Then her mouth formed an O as she saw the white feathers and remembered the newspaper headlines.

 

“Mr Wilmington, can you get him to his feet and into my kitchen? Mr Jackson will need warm water.  Please be careful of his arm, it’s dislocated.”

 

“The same arm Ez?  What are we going to do with you.”

 

Still no reply from the gambler.  Buck was worried, he had seen Ez almost freeze up when he smelt tar after the horrific attack he had suffered.

 

They had just got him seated with Nathan came in.  He took his bag off his shoulder and laid it on the table, and took over from Mrs Potter in cleaning away the paint, checking to make sure that the eyes where clear. The green eyes of his patient had an unfocused look to them. Shock, the man was in shock. “I would have thought a gambler would get used to this.”

 

Buck’s fist hit the table.  “You heard Chris, Nathan.  The same goes for me; Ezra don’t cheat, and what that paper didn’t say was that Ez was taken down only after the Mayor’s son lost his money.”

 

“N-n-n-nev-er  gamble w-w-with a clan.”  The southern accent was thick and Ez slurred the words.  Buck reached out, gently rubbing his good shoulder.

Even so, he tried to avoid Nathan’s grip.

“Don’t you think no black man can be a healer?” It came out harder than Nathan meant it; the man was hurting and he didn’t want the southern gambler to refuse treatment.

“N-n-not t-that.”

“What the hell is it?”

Ezra took a deep breath and tried to keep his voice steady, hating the shaking.

“My first Sentinel was black Mr Jackson, in a Union Prison Camp.  He kept me alive - him and his brother - when I would have been another dead Reb Officer. He died for me, Mr Jackson, so it’s not your colour, it’s you.”  Ezra took a deep breath again. “I, I c-can feel the hatred for my accent, my profession, for me.  All you see and hear is a slave owner, your emotions are like acid.  They eat into me.”

 

“Sentinel, Guide, you’re a Guide?” Nathan shook his head then he looked at Buck. “You’re his Sentinel.”

Buck nodded. “I am a Gamma, if you understand that.”

Nathan asked, “Then his Alpha is?”

“Chris Larabee and his other Sentinel is Vin Tanner.  He’s a feral.”

Nathan dropped into the chair. “Oh my god, somehow it all makes sense now.” He took a steadying breath.  “Ezra, I am sorry, I didn’t know.  You need to let me fix your arm, and I promise I won’t let my emotions hurt you. I will try.”

 

“That is all we can do, Mr Jackson.”

 

Nathan was quick and although Ezra tried to clamp it back, he did cry out in pain as his shoulder slid back into place. Only then did he help the gambler remove his jacket and shirt.  It was then that he saw the horrific scarring to Ezra’s chest and back. Now he understood what the paint attack had done to the younger man, the nightmares it must have brought back.

 

Luckily the paint had been watered down to allow it to pour easier, and it washed off his skin.  Mrs Potter came back from the front of the store with a new shirt and trousers. “Not quite what your used to, Mr Standish, but it should get you back to the hotel.”

 

Ezra reached down to tug his money out of his boot, but Mrs Potter refused him. She was one of the few supporters of the Seven, and was pleased to be able to help out.

Chris came through the back door, and Mrs Potter jumped back. If she was honest, she was scared of Chris Larabee.  The man had an air of violence around him that seemed to cloak him; he was a notorious killer, and she had heard the stories that circulated round the town, none of them good. Yet the concern he showed for the gambler was genuine.

 

0-0-0-0-0

 

The next morning

 

After all of the excitement last night, the senior regulators were all over at Nathan’s clinic, seeing to Ezra. Which left JD holding the fort at the jail.  He had been pleased when Dr Sandburg had joined him.  Over coffee, they had gotten talking; he found the young doctor interesting.  The man had such a different way of looking at things, and unlike some people didn’t laugh at his Dime novels.

 

“This one on Bat Masterson, that’s the one that really made me come west, Blair.  My money only got me as far as Four Corners, so I reckon it must be destiny. Where else would someone my age get a chance to be a Sheriff?” Then he added, keen to move the conversation away from himself,

 “Did you always want to be a fossil hunter?”

“Never knew a time I wasn’t interested in the past.  We can learn so much from it.”

 

“You and Marshal Ellison seem close, but then, you’re one of them, aren’t you.” JD blushed.

 

“I am a Guide, JD, pure and simple.  Without us, our Sentinels would risk falling into a zone out.” He saw the puzzled look.  “I mean, he would fall into a living sleep, and never wake up.  We can bring them back by touch and by voice.”

 

“We?”

 

“JD, I hate to break it to you, but you have it in you.  I can feel it; you’re not going to be a strong guide, but you can learn to use your talent to help you. For a lawman, to be able to tap into the emotions of people is a very handy skill to have, you can tell if they’re telling the truth or lying.”

 

“Nah.” JD shook his head. “Better leave that alone, I’ve got my hands full with this,” he jerked his thumb towards the street, “that’s enough for me. That’s if I live that long.”

 

Concerned, Blair leaned forward. “Someone threatened you.”

 

“If it was someone, I could use these to warn them off; I am fast you know.” JD tapped his brace of guns.

 

“But?”

 

“Hell, Blair, I wouldn’t even get a chance to clear leather against Mr Larabee.”

 

“Well, he is under pressure at the moment, I am sure he’s usually quite even-tempered, polite... and why am I lying?” Blair grinned and leaned forward. “JD, trust me when I say he won’t kill you.” He saw the look of disbelief on the younger man’s face. “Err, would it help if I say his bark is worse than his bite?  Err... Maybe you should ask Buck.”

 

“I already did.”

 

“What did he say?”

 

“Duck.”

 

Blair burst out laughing and a heartbeat later, JD joined him.  It was just a pity he couldn’t tell JD that his empathy as a budding Guide was what would keep him safe from Larabee; an Alpha would be tolerant to a greater degree with a young guide. But, just as he would discipline a young feral, he would hold back with a guide, unless that guide was a danger to himself.  Finally, he was beginning to understand the Seven; what drew them together and held them together. JD’s involvement had been a puzzle, now that was solved.

 

0-0-0-0-0

 

At ten o’clock the newspaper was published and distributed.

 

**A Town standing strong against Crime**

**Vigilante Justice**

 

**Last night Ezra Standish, conman, cardsharp and sometime Regulator, was attacked.**

 

Jim came through the door of the Clarion. “Mrs Travis, we need to talk.”

 

“Of course Marshal, I would be interested to hear your views on why a known criminal has been allowed to stay in town when he-”

 

“Mrs Travis, this rag-”

 

“How dare you!” She spat indignantly back at him, “just because we point out what you should have done. You should have taken over the law from that boy, you should have ran Standish and that perverted tracker out of here on the first day. My father-in-law is well aware of your part in this fiasco, I-”

 

“Your father-in-law is the one that recruited them,  ** _remember_** , and until he tells us different, they are here to stay. Learn to live with it, and for god sake, stop printing this stuff.”

 

“The people have a right to know.”

 

“Sure, that’s what they always say, but Mrs Travis, it’s not always in their interest.  Those men have a hard enough job trying to help these people without you undermining one of them. Just think before you publish.”

 

Jim came out of the office and came face to face with Chris. “It’s been taken care of, Larabee.”

 

“She sees sense?”

 

“I hope so.”

 

Just then, a chair came crashing out of the saloon window, and the two Alphas set off at a run. It looked like trouble had started early today.

 

0-0-0-0-0

 

Coming through the bat wings they ground to a halt.  Vin had a drover by the collar and was dragging him towards the door, while Josiah was hauling another two of them out. “Appreciate the thought cowboy, but we’ve got them,” Vin drawled as he passed his Alpha, giving the one he was half carrying, half dragging, a shake to keep him on his feet. “Move those legs, I am not carrying your carcass to the jail.”

The reply was a mouthful of obscenities; Vin clipped him round the head, then touched the brim of his hat.  “Sorry ladies.” They just rushed past him. He gave Chris a grin. “There goes my invite to the church social.”  And with a push, started the drover towards the church.

 

Later on in the day, as more of the drovers came in from the Double TT herd which was camped north of town, the amount of trouble started to escalate, the combination of thirsty drovers and whiskey making a bad combination.

 

Julie Bell was crossing the street as a gang of the drovers spurred their horses at a dead run. As they fired their guns, Vin didn’t have a chance to yell a warning.  He came off the sidewalk running, catching her around the waist and his momentum rolling them clear of the thundering hooves as they hit the ground.  Even so, pain exploded through his shoulder as he landed, and he felt the sudden wetness as his wound burst open. His weight pinned the now screaming girl to the ground. Suddenly, he was picked up and thrown off her. He landed sprawled on his back, the blackness that clouded his mind threatening to pull him down into unconsciousness.

 

“Get the hell off him.” It was a woman’s voice, old but with power to it, someone used to being obeyed.  It was backed up by a bullet being chambered. There was the rustle of a skirt and then a hand on his good shoulder. “You all right son?”

 

“Ain’t your son,” he spat back. As he managed to push the darkness back, he pulled himself up, using the hitching rail to get to his feet. The woman’s hand rested on his shoulder, still ignoring the flinch at her touch.

 

“Tarnation girl, what were you trying to do, get yourself killed?”

 

“No, but he didn’t have to touch me.” The voice was petulant as she brushed off the dust from her clothing, as if it would also eradicate the tracker’s touch.

 

“Julie, you thank the man,” the old lady told the young girl.

 

Julie ignored her and ran to her mother who pulled her close. The mother hesitated and then, meeting Vin’s eyes said, “Thank you, Mr Tanner,” and then took her daughter away, as concern gave way to anger for her wayward child.

 

The owner of the hand and the rifle was a small, bird-like old woman, but who was obviously as tough as rawhide. “I am fine, ma’am.”

 

“Fine.” She shook her head. “You’re bleeding and the name is Nettie Wells.”

 

“Ain’t nothing I can’t take care of; I’ve had worse before,” Vin shrugged.

 

The old woman said softly, her tone sad, “I am sure you have son.”

 

 Vin tried to push her hand away, and it was then Jim who caught hold of him.  Immediately Vin was struggling to get away from him, trying to free himself from the touch. “Quit it; Tanner you’re going to Nathan’s, your choice, you can either walk or I’ll throw you over my shoulder.  See how you’ll like that,” Jim growled as he manhandled the tracker towards the stairs to the clinic. “You send Larabee up there; don’t care what you tell him, you find him and send him up,” he said to JD as the youngster arrived.

 

Jim could feel the aggression building in the feral; as an Alpha himself he could try and impose his will on the younger Apex, but he knew that he didn’t have the time for that kind of domination, and anyway, Larabee would kill him if he tried.

 

Nathan turned as they came into the clinic, the argument loud and angry.

Jim’s hand was now firmly holding the back of the tracker’s neck.

 

“He bust his shoulder wound open, Nathan.”

 

“Get the coat off Vin.”

 

“No fucking way, Nathan, I am fine,” Vin snarled as he tried to twist free.

 

“Not that easy to do, Tanner, with a busted wing,” Jim gloated, giving the smaller, younger man a hard shake; the Alpha showing the younger pup his place.

 

“You do that again and I am going to shove my mare’s leg up your ass and pull the trigger, Ellison.”

 

“You can try, pup.” Jim let his voice drop to a deep-throated growl.

 

Nathan shook his head; thank God Josiah had had a long talk with him last night as Ezra slept, and he understood a little of the interplay going on. But it still made him uneasy.

 

“Let him go, Ellison.” The cold voice of Chris Larabee came from behind them.

Nathan felt his blood turn cold at the look on the gunman’s face; he looked ready to kill someone. His tone was barely civil as he said,

“Nathan, let me talk to Vin, and then, I would appreciate it if you’d bind his shoulder up. You won’t have any trouble with him.”

 

Nathan slowly backed out of the clinic; he could almost see the sparks flying between the three men.

 

“Your pup nearly got himself killed, you know that,” Jim pointed out.

 

“Yeah, more balls than brains, but he’s mine.”

 

“Son of a bitch,” Jim swore as Vin brought his foot down onto his instep to try and get him to let go, and he clipped the tracker across the back of the head, a small sharp reminder to the pup. Then, sensing rather than seeing Chris coming at him, he gave Vin a sharp push into the arms of his enraged Alpha and ducked out the door.

 

Chris caught hold of Vin to stop him falling, Jim now forgotten.

 

Vin, seeing the look, began to struggle but he was expertly spun round and brought down on top of one of the clinic’s beds, half on and off. Vin couldn’t get any purchase and with Chris on top of him, he was pinned. His good arm was caught and pulled up high behind his back. Chris jerked out of the way as Vin threw his head back and tried to catch him in the face. It didn’t matter that it was his Alpha; he wasn’t going to be held. When Chris’s other hand touched his face, he managed to twist enough to snap at it, trying to bite him, anything to get the man off him. 

 

“Quit it, Vin. Vin-” Chris lowered himself down onto the trapped body that was still heaving under him to try and stop the movement. “You’re hurt, you have to have that wound taken care of. You listening to me, Tanner?”

 

“Get the fuck off of me, I can take care of myself Larabee.” 

 

Gently, he touched the feral’s face, Sentinel light touches, designed to settle him.  Finally, Vin was leaning into those touches and needing the connection with his Alpha. Only then did Chris slowly lift himself off him.

 

Chris felt the sudden surge of energy as the muscles tensed under him then a violent twist of the body as Vin tried one last time to throw him off.  As the tracker had felt his weight change on top of him, Chris had immediately countered the move, a grin spreading across his face.  That was his feral, never one to give up.  He knew Vin would always fight him.  Until he established his domination and only then would he accept help. “You don’t have to go off and lick your wounds, Vin, you’re not alone anymore.”

 

With his free hand, Chris began running it over his sides and back, small touches to centre the feral.  Slowly his breathing began to level out, his mind and body submitting to his Alpha. Only then did Chris ease up off of him.

The blond gunman kept up his reassurance; he knew all too well how hard it was for Vin to trust.  It was only because of their sentinel connection that he could get Vin to settle under his hand, even their Guide had to struggle sometimes because Vin was so skittish. The reassurance Chris projected began to mellow and merge into the bond, and Chris drew the younger man into his mind. Words were no longer important, the very essence of who and what they were was shared between them. But, the older man sensed a part of Vin’s mind that was closed off. Fear and loathing flooded his senses whenever his mind brushed against that box and Vin would get distressed, starting to thrash and panic, fearing that whatever was in the box would turn his Alpha against him. If it took one year or a hundred, Chris was willing to wait for his feral to open up to him.

 

It was only when he was confident that Vin was resting within the bond that he slowly peeled the jacket back and examined the wound; the stitches had broken at the front on his chest rather than at his back. They would need replacing, but for the moment he had time to just give thanks that his young feral was still with him.

 

Stood out on the stairway to the Clinic, Nathan looked at Jim Ellison and the satisfied look on his face. “They’re bonding. Don’t look like that Nathan, it’s not sex, if anything it’s much more intimate than sex. Have you ever wondered what it would be like to have someone living in your head? That, Nathan, is what it’s like to be a Sentinel. Blair keeps me sane; the bond is like a touchstone for us. But the people out here,” Jim waved at hand at the town, “see Sentinels and Guides as freaks, and the bond as pure animal lust.  I’ve seen men lynched for less.”

 

“It’s their secret Jim, and I’ll honour it for them.”

 

Jim tilted his head to one side.“You can go back in Nathan, Chris is ready for you.”

 

From his place on the street, Blair wasn’t happy as he heard the talk from the townspeople. Even nearly getting killed saving the girl wasn’t enough for some of them. What was being said about Vin and Ezra was ugly.  How it stood at the moment was that JD was accepted because he was known, as was Josiah and Nathan. But with Ezra, the townspeople were nearly one hundred percent behind the mock tarring and feathering, and Vin, well, he had seen people cross the street rather than walk past him. Women pulled their skirts out of the way rather than risk him brushing against them; he certainly wasn’t wanted here. Chris Larabee and his reputation meant that most people were scared to even talk to him, let along protest at his presence. Not good in the proper time-line they had had people that didn’t want them, but there was a core of supporters.  In this time-line those people were missing - or maybe not. Mrs Potter came out of her store and called him over, then disappeared back into it to return with a covered plate. She handed it across to Blair,  a ‘small something for Mr Tanner’.  Blair thanked her and headed to the clinic.

 

Mrs Potter looked around her, meeting the disapproving look of some of the other townspeople - in particular Mrs Travis - and with a flounce, went back inside.

 

0-0-0-0-0

 

It was late that night; as the fire of the blacksmith’s forge was glowing brightly in the night, Tiny was working the shoes for Vin Tanner’s horse. He had noticed how worn they were, and was doing a small kindness.

 

Something made him look up and he started to find Tanner stood there, his left arm in a sling, as support for his shoulder.

 

“Evening, Mr Tanner.”

 

The tracker leaned against the door. He looked pale and drained.

 

“I can’t pay for those shoes, and I don’t take charity.”

 

“Err, they’re included in the cost of the stable and board, it’s no problem, Mr Tanner.”

 

“Thanks.” For a moment Vin just looked at Tiny, as if trying to grasp a memory, then shaking his head as he lost it.

 

Vin started on his way back towards the wagon, then remembered the threat that was ringing in his ears about what would happen if he spent the night in it. Reluctantly, he turned his feet to the boarding house, and the room that the judge paid for and that he didn’t use.

 

 

The tracker stopped.  He knew he wasn’t alone; he was being followed. The streets at that time of night were empty, only a few fires burned to cast light onto the street. He pulled the mare’s leg from its holster and cocked it. From his hiding place Vin’s stalker watched him; the tracker would be hard to get, but he had something very special lined up for him.  It was just a matter of time and that was something he had plenty of.

 

0-0-0-0-0

 

The next morning the newspaper read

**Four Corners**

**The New**

**Sodom and Gomorrah.**

**It has been brought to this editor’s notice by certain concerned citizens that some members of this town’s community, people that should be upholding the morals of this town, have been caught in lieud and improper conduct….**

**This is conduct that you would expect from heathen savages, not civilized men. But, in the case of these men, one of them is only a step above being a savage himself and the other has already shown disregard for gentlemanly behaviour.**

 

Murphy folded the paper back, and read the rest of the article with relish.

Mary Travis had all but put a bull’s eye on the back of Tanner and Standish.

 

0-0-0-0-0

 

Ezra clutched the paper tightly in his hand and went to find Chris and Vin.  The tracker tried to hide it, but he wasn’t able to read and write, and wouldn’t have been aware of what was in the paper.  He had to warn him.

 


	5. Part Five

Vin was puzzled. The townspeople were always hostile, but nothing like this. A man coming out of one of the stores collided with him, hard. Pain knifed through his shoulder as he was pushed off the sidewalk and into the hitching rail.

The man just looked at him with disgust, then spat and walked away.

Walking into the jail he saw the newspaper laid out on the table. The black print meant nothing to him. JD looked up from where he was sitting , reading it.

“JD.”

“Vin.” When the tracker leaned past him to pick up the latest bundle of wanted posters, JD jerked back, almost tipping himself out of the chair.

“What the hell’s wrong with you?”

“Our young associate, it seems, has read the paper and believes that you, we,” Ezra corrected, “has designs on his body.”

“What?” Vin jerked back. “You loco or something boy?”

“It’s the newspaper, Mr Tanner. It seems that the fair Mrs Travis has all but named us as perverted deviants in front of the whole town. Already this morning I have been spat at, and, Mr Tanner, it is going to get worse.”

“Why?”

“The same reason that I was attacked; someone wants us out of this town.”

Then, with a sigh, Ezra turned his attention to JD. “Mr Dunne, believe me when I tell you that neither of us will be rivalling Miss Casey for your affections.” He grinned at the relieved look on the young man’s face.

0-0-0-0-0

“TINY!” Yosemite yelled his brother’s name as he went into the livery, waving the newspaper. “Did you read this?”

“Haven’t had a chance, why?” Tiny wiped his hands on his trousers and reached for it, and the horror slowly filled his face. “Shit.” 

“What are we going to do about this?”

“If we come out and say anything, then Tanner is going to know it’s us.”

“We can’t let this stand, the way things look in town at the moment it could get him and Standish killed.” He paused. “We need to talk to him and soon.”

0-0-0-0-0

Murphy couldn’t have been happier as he looked out and watched the people of Four Corners. This was chess, but using a living board and pieces.  
Why Worth had wanted it to happen this way rather than just gunning them down, he didn’t know, but this was so much better. Turning, he looked at Cutler. “Tonight I want you to see to Tanner, just as I’ve told you. Have your fun, but don’t forget the plan. The bottle is on the table.”

0-0-0-0-0

Vin’s face lost what colour it had, the print just blurring in front of his eyes. “Has Chris seen this?”

“Since the Clarion is still standing then I think we can safely say he has not yet seen the offending article.”

“Mr Larabee had to ride out to the Thompson Ranch this morning with Buck, first thing. There’s been rustling going on; Thompson is blaming the Faulkners. Mr Larabee went to talk to them,” JD answered.

“Then Mrs Travis lives for another few hours.”

“Mr Larabee wouldn’t would he? I mean-” JD started to say.

“No, but Mrs Travis will wish he had, when he’s finished with her,” Ezra answered.

0-0-0-0

The day was one of the worst for the Regulators. Vin and Ezra were being targeted and as the day went on it was getting worse. Jim was getting seriously worried at the escalation of the barely suppressed violence.

When night came and Chris and Buck still hadn’t returned, Jim had made the two men patrol with another of the Seven; Nathan had been partnering Vin, and Josiah had taken to watching over the young gambler.

0-0-0-0-0

That Night

It had been a long day and Blair was looking forward to his bed. The physical strain had been nothing compared to the mental strain, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Jim had returned angry enough to make all but the most strong of heart run for cover when he had gotten back from Mary Travis; the woman had spouted a lot of rubbish about protecting the good people of the town and the children from deviants and sodomites. A woman on a crusade, she had refused to tell him who was giving her the information, just that she would never have published it without confirmation, and she had gotten that from two upstanding members of the community who had firsthand knowledge of Vin Tanner’s perversions. 

There, she had said it; he was a barely civilized sodomite that was bringing his filthy Indian practices into their town, and also, what could you expect from a cheating gambler but to join him in wallowing in their own corruption? It was the first time that Jim had come close to hitting a woman; he wasn’t proud of the thought, but for a split second it had burned through him, and he had had to storm out before he did.

0-0-0-0

Nathan walked slowly along the dark street with Vin. The tracker was one of the quietest men he had ever known, but even with all the vile comments and the threats of physical violence that hovered in the background, he had shown that he had a wicked sense of humour, and Nathan had found himself taking a liking to the man. Even if all enquires about his health were met with an “I am fine” reply.

Trying the door to one of the deserted shops, Nathan found it gave under his hand. Vin eased the mare’s leg from its holster, and waited for Nathan to pull his gun before they entered quickly, making sure not to frame themselves in the doorway. A noise from upstairs made them inch their way toward the stairs. Vin started up first when something caught his foot and he went full length onto his front. Nathan was pulled down; he fought, but was overpowered. Then he smelled the chloroform and he spiralled down into unconsciousness.

Cutler grinned. “Leave him here and get Tanner.”

Vin was manhandled out of the shop, carried to the back of the Saloon and up the back stairs into Ezra’s room. The gambler was still playing cards downstairs for the moment, and so they would leave him.

Cutler tossed Vin’s hat onto the dressing table and then undid his gun belt, allowing himself to run a hand up the tracker’s inner thigh and cup his groin. This was going to be better than on the trail, so much better, this time he wouldn’t fight them. “Help me strip him off.”

The man with him reluctantly did what he asked, but when Cutler began to fondle and stroke the tracker, he backed away. “You can’t do that, I thought we were just going to leave him here, and-”

”And miss out on the fun?” Seeing the look on the other man’s face, he snapped, “You don’t like it, Murray, you get out of here.” 

John Murray backed out of the room. He made his way down to the bar and then brought a large drink, throwing it back in one gulp. Suspecting, hell, knowing what was going to happen up there in the room, nearly making him sick.

“Preacher.” He leaned over Josiah Sanchez as the big man sat nursing a beer, his eyes fixed on the young gambler, and whispered quickly. The next minute Josiah was taking the steps two at a time. He hit the door hard and it sprung open. Cutler, his shirt and trousers open, was rubbing himself against the naked tracker. His head snapped round and he made a grab for his gun. Cutler never made it; a hand like a vice clamped on his throat and he was lifted up in the air and shook like a rat. Josiah hit him once and Cutler’s body went limp in his hand. Josiah tossed him into a corner like the rubbish he was. He had more important things to worry about. His gaze took in Vin, and he carefully wrapped him in the blanket. Bending over him, he could smell the sickly sweet scent of the chloroform around his mouth. This was serious; for a Sentinel chloroform was dangerous, he knew enough to know that it was never used on them because of the risk of them being unable to find their way back.

Ignoring the unconscious man, he closed the door and made his way down to get Ezra, and then he had to find Nathan.

Big Bill Connor stepped out from the darkness at the end of the hallway and into the gambler’s room. He pulled the blanket back and let his gaze feast on the naked body of the younger man. It would be so easy to stake his claim on the unresponsive body, but he would wait. He had failed once before and wouldn’t fail again. He could hear the men coming and left, going back the way he came.

Ezra came into the room fast. Swiftly, he knelt on the bed, his hands moving over Vin’s face and leaning forward, he smelt the chloroform. “What the hell’s happened to you, Vin?” He looked up from his Sentinel. “Josiah, I need you to get Blair and find Nathan, before I lose him.” The horror on the gambler’s face was heartbreaking as he added, so quietly that Josiah nearly missed it, “I’ve lost one Sentinel, I am not going to lose another.”

0-0-0-0-0

The pounding on the bedroom door woke Blair from his sleep, but the look on Josiah’s face and the quick, tense words had Blair pulling on his boots and jacket. He hurried after Josiah, trying to question the man as they rushed, back to the Saloon.

Pushing the door open into the room, Josiah froze.

“Easy Ezra.”

Only then was the Remington lowered, and the Guide let them approach his Sentinel.

Leaving the two young guides, he hefted the unconscious man out. “Taking out the rubbish,” was his only comment, as he dragged Cutler away.

Later, he planned on finding out who the man was, and why he had attacked Vin, but at the moment that could wait, because they were in danger of losing one of the pack. Josiah was not going to let that happen on his watch.

0-0-0-0-0

Conklin Hay & Feed Store.

Murphy stood in the office and he couldn’t help his smile. He had moved his human chess pieces into place and was now embarking on the end game. He looked at the clock; by midnight everything would be ready. He looked at one of his most edgier pawns, after Mrs Travis.

Mr Conklin was a local businessman. He was one of the most vocal in his distrust of the ‘Larabee gang’, as he liked to call them, although the other townspeople had started to refer to them as the Seven, after having seen them grouped together in the Saloon. A thin-faced man, life had carved bitter lines in his face from the experience of past failures. He looked at the five men surrounding him in the office of Conklin Hay & Feed Store. He had been honoured to be approached by Mr Bedford in order to form the Four Corners Vigilante Committee; he saw it as a reflection of his position within the society of Four Corners.

“One of my men saw Tanner going up the stairs to Standish’s room. Now, we might be charitable and say that they were going to share a drink or play cards,” Murphy told them.

“Two handed games,” one of the others cut in, and gave a dirty laugh.

“Exactly, I think you will agree, gentlemen, that we have to show this filth that we are not going to allow them in this town.”

“What about Larabee,” Conklin asked, shifting his feet nervously.

“Out of town; Mr Thompson kindly allowed himself to be used as a way of getting Larabee away. I had hoped that Marshal Ellison would also go, but Mr Wilmington is a bonus. Whereas I have no problem with the Marshal, he is in such a position where he cannot be seen to condone what we are going to do.”

“Hell, the man really tore a piece out of Mrs Travis,” Mr Conklin put in.

“Ellison has to work within the law and I happen to know that he is waiting on a telegram from the Judge.” He smiled. “In this telegram, the Judge is quite clear in that he should do something to eradicate these abominations,” Murphy reassured them.

“Then can’t we leave it to him?” Hans Muller, the baker, said.

Mr Conklin shook his head. “Hans, the Marshal can drive them from town, and under Larabee’s gun they might return. We need to make sure they go for good; remember what those good people did with Standish, they tarred and feathered him, and he has the scars to prove it. We will give them the same - the Mark of Cain.”

Murphy handed a bottle around.

0-0-0-0-0

Ezra’s slender, tapered fingers brushed across the planes of Vin’s face, as his voice was pitched to the seductive tone of a guide. “Vin, you can hear my voice, and I am calling you back. I need you.”  
There was no response to his voice or touch. Ezra looked up at Blair and there was despair in his face.

“Right, he’s really shut down tight, hearing is knocked out, and possibly touch. If what Josiah said was true, he might have locked them out when that guy was, well you know. So, we try scent.”

Seeing the almost shocked look, he said, “Come on Ezra, you know that he and Larabee lock onto you by scent. You might not like it, but they still do it.’

“They?”

“Sentinels; it’s the most primal part of them and when they bond with us, they surround themselves with our scent, our heart beat. In other words, our very essence. You have to do that with Vin. Don’t worry,” Blair added quickly, “No one is going to judge you. Hell, there is stuff I had do to bring Jim back that I am sure if he knew about would have him running screaming into the night.”

He paused, seeing the small nod of agreement. “The main thing is, if Vin comes back, he can always shoot you later.” Blair’s joke was a small one, but it got an answering, if strained, smile.

“So, where do we start, Dr Sandburg?”

“Considering what we’re going to have to do, I think you can call me Blair. Josiah, keep everyone out of here and, if this works, no matter what you hear, keep out of the room because when he comes out of it, Vin will be pure feral.”

How long the two guides worked in the room, he didn’t know, but for Josiah it seemed that time was standing still. JD found a groggy Nathan and helped him back to the jail, reassuring him that Vin would be okay. Admitting that he didn’t really understand, but that Josiah said it was a Sentinel-Guide thing. 

0-0-0-0-0

Blair took a pull of the whiskey. It had been close, but it seemed that, finally, Vin was beginning to respond to the touch and scent of his guide. Getting Ezra to do everything that was needed was hard, but he had done it in the end to call his Sentinel back, which showed that the three of them had a very strong bond.

The door opened and Blair had never been so relieved in his life to see his own Sentinel, with a heavily dust-covered Chris Larabee. The fact that the man didn’t ask any questions meant that Jim had told him all he knew.

“Vin?”

“Responding, Chris, but he needs you as well. One thing, when he comes round-”

“He’s going to be spitting nails, Jim told me.”

“You also know what happened before Josiah arrived?”

The blond gunman nodded. “Shit happens, Sandburg.”

Blair was about to flare up at the callous remark, when he saw the sadness and life weariness in the gunman’s face for what his younger soul mate had suffered.

As Blair started to leave, he stopped him.

“Thank you.”

Two words said from the heart. Blair risked a pat on the black clothed arm, and then left the room. The Saloon was now empty except for the remaining Seven.

Alone with his young guide and soul mated Sentinel, Chris’s persona changed. He was still an extremely dangerous man, but then so was this guide and especially his soul mate. But he allowed the man that he used to be - the man that had loved his wife and guide, that had made him a loving father - to come through. It was the man that Buck had known, and was now only just beginning to see glimpses of, coming back to him. He removed the duster and hat, his gun belt, looping it near the bed close at hand, and then sat down. Reaching out a hand he ghosted it, Sentinel soft, over Vin’s face, then scented his fingers.

“Chloroform,” Ezra answered from where he lay, his body partly covering that of his Sentinel. He should have been embarrassed to be seen partly naked in bed with another man; embarrassed, hell, mortified. But this was the bond, the need to cover as much of Vin as possible with his scent, with his heat. He didn’t understand all that Blair had said, but one term stood out. Sensory pad, Blair had had to explain it, but it fit. Vin’s senses were locked down, but with the weight of his body against Vin, the scent, all slowly permeated through to the Sentinel, and it was working. Through their link he could feel the tracker returning to him, to them. Ezra felt the link with Chris as the older man stroked his arm and back, reassuring him, and allowing the three to connect as one. Ezra closed his eyes, allowing himself the indulgence of basking in the bond, his voice soft, the stress broadening his southern accent, “One heart, one soul, one body, beating for three.”

Vin came out of the void, his eyes opening and burning with a blue flamed fury. Ezra was sent flying as Vin fought to free himself from their hands.

“Easy, Vin.”

The words meant nothing to the feral. His senses overwhelmed, he bit, kicked and hit out, snarling and growling, knowing only that he had to be free.

Chris took a hard hit round the face and a foot that would have unmanned him if it had been lower. Ezra had been kicked off the bed and made a lunge, bringing the naked feral down as Vin surged off the bed; it sent him crashing to the floor just short of the door. Ezra clung onto Vin’s legs for dear life. Just avoiding getting a foot in the face, he managed to hold him long enough for Chris to throw himself on top of Vin, the younger man bucking and trashing, trying to throw them off him. Just then door to the room opened, and Buck appeared. He had stopped Ellison coming up with one snarled word; “Pack.”

Buck stood there for a moment, admiring the scene. At any other time it would have been funny to see Chris and Ezra struggling with a determined but naked Vin Tanner, and he looked forward to teasing the very private tracker about it later.

Then Chris managed to get Vin into a arm lock, and as he looked over the heaving body of his soul mate to look at Buck, the possessiveness of the Predator blazed out through the green eyes. Buck held up at a hand to ward off any attack. “Just me, Chris, no one is going to take him away from you.”

“Can’t lose him.”

“You won’t Chris, you won’t.”

Buck allowed his tone to drop, soothing the Predator Sentinel. As a Gamma Sentinel, Buck was the caring heart of the pack. His large hands soothed over the black shirted back, then over Ezra, and finally Vin. Jerking his hand back and just avoiding getting his hand bitten as it got too close to the feral’s mouth.

“Bites like a snapping turtle. Him and that horse of his got a lot in common.”

The tone was light and Buck allowed his affection for the young feral to show. His presence was becoming a balm to the Predator and Feral. 

Domination was something that had to be established; the Feral had to learn that he didn’t run from his Alpha but to him, and tonight, Vin would be claimed fully by his Alpha and his pack. Only then would the feral stand down and let the man come forward.

Buck settled down, leaning over them, his hands moving all the time from one man to the next, little touches soothing and comforting as only a Gamma could.

0-0-0-0

The Saloon was empty and Jim stood looking out of the doorway, down a street cast in darkness except for the small burning fires that lit the way. He had his senses pulled back, so as not to intrude on what was going on upstairs. Blair was stood next to him, leaning into his body, needing that contact, as Josiah and Nathan sat drinking endless cups of coffee.

“You sure everything is alright up there?” Nathan asked, the healer in him wanting to make sure that Vin was okay. But at the same time knowing that his intrusion would not be welcome. Suddenly, there was a loud bang and the ceiling shook, waking JD up from his slumber. Josiah was on his feet when Jim said, “No, it’s alright.”

“What the hell are they doing?” Nathan demanded.

“A Sentinel must claim his guide.” Jim turned and faced the three remaining members of the Seven. “Chris is an Alpha Sentinel, what we call a Predator, and the most dangerous. Vin is a Feral, a wild untrained Sentinel; they are the rarest, and need to be... controlled, for want of a better word, by an Alpha. Ezra is a guide, just like Blair, and he is the balance to the other two, their touchstone for their senses. He brings peace and harmony.” Jim grinned hard to think that this was true of Ezra, but it was true. “And finally, Buck is what we call a Gamma Sentinel; he doesn’t have the powerful senses of the other two, and so in a pack or clan he would help protect and nurture the children, and protect the Alpha from himself. Together they are a working pack.”

JD had to ask. “How do we fit in?”

“JD, there is no shame in being a guide, even if your ability is not strong. Nathan, you’re a healer, and Josiah, the wisdom of the Pack. All parts of a whole, but you need to be able to accept it. There are parts of pack life, especially between a Predator and Feral, which are beyond our understanding, but vital for the healthy life of the pack. You have accepted the roles of regulators, can you now accept becoming part of the Pack?”

For a moment - the longest in Blair’s life - no one said anything. Then, Josiah said;

“Can think of worse things to be,” and smiled. JD was next. “If it stops Mr Larabee shooting me, I am in.” The last was Nathan, “you’re going to need a healer, so I am in.”

Jim let out a sigh of relief. The Seven were finally together.

0-0-0-0

Tiny and Yosemite saw the crowd gathering, recognising the members of the Vigilante Committee. Turning, Tiny threw his brother a shotgun, and then stepped out onto the street, heading for the Potters’ store.

Jim saw the lights. “We’ve got trouble.”

Chairs were thrown back as Josiah, JD and Nathan got to their feet, pulling back, with Jim and Blair to cover the stairs. The large group of men came barrelling into the saloon. “Get out of the way, Marshal Ellison, you too Sheriff Dunne.” Conklin made JD’s title sound almost like a joke.

“We’re going to teach them a lesson.” He tapped the whip in his hand against his leg. “We don’t want their kind here.”

“What kind is that?”

Conklin looked up to the top of the stairs.

Blair took one look and muttered, “Oh shit”. Things had just gotten a hell of a lot worse. When someone had coined the phase ‘ridden hard and put away wet’, they had had these men in mind.

Mary Travis was stood just outside of the Saloon, and watched what was happening. She got the shock of her life.

In the short time she had been married, she might have made love to her husband, but it was with the lights off and him in his nightgown. So, the half naked Vin Tanner, his long hair sticking to his sweat-drenched, lean, muscular body, dressed only in his trousers that hung low on his hips and clutching a Winchester rifle, made the heat fuse up into her face.

She looked at Chris Larabee; standing to Vin’s left, his dark blond hair falling untidily over his eyes, his black shirt was pulled out of his trousers and it was unbuttoned halfway down his chest.

Mary found she was breathing hard, her face becoming flushed. The normally immaculate Standish stood to the right of Tanner, his shirt roughly tucked into his trousers, the shirt gaping open, showing bare chest. He had his hand resting near the butt of the Remington he carried, mirroring Larabee’s action.

Turning to the mob, Conklin yelled, “Look, see for yourself! I-”

“They’re Sentinels and Guide,” Jim put in levelly, his voice cutting through Conklin’s words. “Just like we are.” He waved a hand at Blair. “So, Mr Conklin, you think that I fuck my guide?” Jim deliberately made the word ugly. “Do you?” He allowed his anger to grow.

“No, err, of course not... you’re-”

“I am a US Marshal. Well, I don’t do anything different than what they do. The bond is a sacred trust, and to take your guide is to violate it. Are you calling my honour and that of my guide into question?” Jim’s voice dropped to the low growl of a challenged Sentinel.

“No, of course not, it’s just the papers, they-”

“Newspapers lie, Mr Conklin, and fools believe them,” Blair put in levelly.

Just then, the Hughes brothers and Mr Potter arrived. Mr Potter met Chris’ gaze. “You need some help, Mr Larabee?” He ignored the way they looked, as he added, “A sentinel and guide saved my hide during the war, time to pay that back.”

The tension in the room was slowly bleeding out; most of the men had either served in the war or had relatives that had, and they might not have understood what Sentinels and Guides did, but they knew that lives on both sides had been saved by them.

Mrs Travis felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned to see Mr Bedford. “John, we have been so wrong about them.”

“Not really, Mary. You did exactly what I wanted. Let’s join the party.”

Murphy’s hand dug into her shoulder and he manhandled her inside the saloon; his remaining men flanking him, his gun resting against the side of Mary’s head.

“Pity, Larabee. It was going to be so easy, now we’re just going to have to do it the hard way.”

“Murphy.” It was Vin that identified the man.

Conklin said, “No, that’s Mr Bedford.”

“No, Murphy. He’s a bounty hunter,” Jim put in. “What’s the matter Murphy? You got paid.”

“I accepted a better deal.” He ignored Jim. “Now you know, Larabee, I’ve always fancied my chances against you, and tonight I think that I might just get lucky.”

“Why all this, why not just call me out?”

“Wheels within wheels, Larabee, wheels within wheels.” He paused. “Now, unless you want to see her brains splattered across this saloon, I want you to take your gun out, nice and slowly, and empty the bullets to the floor.”

Jim watched as Larabee did as he was told. “Now, take one bullet out, place it in the chamber, spin it and put your gun back into its holster. Then we draw.” 

“You call that a fair fight? It’s murder, it’s-”

“Shut up, JD.”

Vin’s voice was raspy, as if he was having trouble forming the words, still feeling the last of the chloroform. He slowly cocked the Winchester. In the hands of an expert like Vin, the rifle was as lethal as any handgun.

Toby, one of Murphy’s men, took Mary’s arm and trained his own gun at her head as he pulled her away from his boss. A grinning Murphy moved so that he was facing Chris from across the room.

“Kept hearing how fast you were, Larabee, now I get to prove all those stories wrong. Once you’re dead, I am going to have my men hang that gambler and then I am going to ride Tanner until he’s raw. He was a good fuck on the trail; he fought us, but he was helpless, and that was real sweet.”

Murphy didn’t have to see the faces of the townspeople to see their horror at what he was admitting to.

Buck shook his head slowly. The man wanted to put Chris off his game, but all he was doing was digging his grave deeper. The man was dead, he just didn’t know it.

Then, Larabee walked down the last few steps and out onto the saloon floor.

Larabee was projecting an aura of death that seemed to make the room colder. He was death in personified.

Now facing each other across the floor of the Saloon, Murphy went for his gun.

Chris cleared leather fast. There were two clicks as the hammer of his gun fell on an empty chamber, then an ear-shattering bang, and Murphy was knocked off his feet by a bullet to the chest. Murphy had only just cleared leather.

The sudden firing of a Winchester on the heel of Chris’s shot brought everyones head snapping round to look at the half naked tracker. The man holding Mary fell to the floor, his blood spraying over her face and hair as the tracker killed him before he had a chance to pull the trigger and kill her.

Chris pulled the bullets from his belt and reloaded as he walked up to look down at Murphy. He was lying on his back, an expression of total shock on his face. “No one is that fast.” He just managed to stutter out the word, having trouble breathing.

Mary was clinging onto Mr Potter who had pulled her into his arms. Her voice was shaking, but even so, she pointed at Chris.  
“Mr Larabee, you can’t shoot him. He’s injured.”

Murphy tried to take advantage of what he thought was a lapse in concentration. His hand closed on the butt of the gun that had fallen from his hand when he had been shot and started to bring it up. 

He never competed the move. The bullet hit his head, splattering the floor with his brains. Looking up, Chris saw Mary looking at him; the smile he gave her was chilling.

“You’re a lawman, Mr Larabee. You murdered that man.”

Mary’s voice was breaking with anger and fear of the man who stood in front of her.

“No lady, I am the bad element. Remember?”

Chris turned to look back towards his soul mate. He could see Vin’s pride in him, burning in those blue eyes. They still had one last thing to do and they would do that away from the eyes of the town. That was Pack justice, against the man that had dared to touch this important part of his soul.

0-0-0-0-0-0

The next morning the Clarion newspaper was on the street

 

Plot to Undermine Local Law Foiled

The Clarion is proud to have been instrumental in helping the local law enforcers in unmasking a major criminal. Towards this end the Clarion had to publish a series of scandalous stories.  
It would like to make clear that this paper and the Council of Four Comers hold the peacekeepers Mr Standish and Mr Tanner in the highest regard, and that any references made to their private life, directly or indirectly must be clearly stated as being totally and utterly false.

 

Ezra put the paper down. “Mrs Travis can grovel with the best of them, or so it seems.”

“That woman is a menace.”

“I would agree whole heartedly, Mr Larabee, but I think for the foreseeable future she might turn her attentions elsewhere.”

Josiah had Cutler by the shoulder, hands cuffed behind his back.

The night had bolstered the man.

“You take me to court and I’ll tell them all about Vin Tanner, the $500 dollar reward, and how on the trail he spread his legs wide and often for us, letting us take him two at a time. He-”

Cutler was caught up and slammed against the wall of the jail, his feet beating a tattoo against the wall as the air was forced from his lungs.

“Let him down, Josiah,” Chris ordered.

“At the end of the street, there’s a livery stable. You find a horse, leave town,” Chris said, levelly.

“You’ll shoot me.”

Chris shook his head. “I won’t, nor will any the others. No one will shoot you, you have my word.”

“You’re letting me go.”

“Yeah.”

Cutler edged towards the door. “One thing. I didn’t say anything about knives.” Chris reached out and tugged the bowie knife from Josiah’s belt and then tossed it hilt first to Vin.

“You have ‘til the count of ten, then Vin’s coming after you.”

“1, 2, 3-”

Cutler turned to the others. “You can’t let him do this!”

“4, 5-”

Seeing his death in their faces, Cutler took to his heels into the main street of Four Corners, pushing past people in his hurry to reach the livery stables and escape.

“6, 7, 8, 9, 10.”

“Go hunt, brother.”

Vin left the jail. He was in no hurry and there was no place that Cutler could go that he wouldn’t find him.

Late that evening, Cutler finally stopped. He was sure that he had lost the tracker. He had cut across his trail three times. He just reaching for some more wood for the fire, when he looked up. The figure came out of the night at him; all he had time to do was scream and keep screaming until death finally claimed him.

The next day, Vin was sat at the desk in the Sheriff’s office, his feet propped up on the corner of the spur scarred desk, his hat brim pulled down over his face. His chest rose and fell gently as he slept.

None of the Seven had asked what he had done, and if they were honest, they didn’t want to know. They all knew what Vin was capable of doing; the younger man had a darker side to him, forged by the life he had been forced to live, and that made him dangerous, to his enemies.

Buck handed the black tabard back to Chris and shook his head as the gunman poked at the place where the bullet had been imbedded. “You know, Buck, I still can’t believe it stopped a bullet. It doesn’t seem thick enough.”

“And where the hell did he get it from and that rifle that Junior’s been drooling over?”

“Same place as Ellison,” the soft Texas accent interrupted them, “ain’t that right, Marshal?” Vin tipped the brim of his hat up and looked to the man that stood in the doorway.

Jim said, “I think it’s about time you knew what is going on here. The moment that Murphy wore that, the ground rules changed. It’s a long story, and I am not sure you’re going to believe me, but here goes.”

The end.


End file.
